


kiss me (on this cold december night)

by maidenstar



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidenstar/pseuds/maidenstar
Summary: "You know you could ask her out, right?” Rosita points out, pretending to scan the items for sale.“Who says I even want to ask her out?” Waverly retorts with a defensive huff.“Your face dude,” Rosita says with a derisive snort. “Like, your whole entire faces says it.”"She’s right you know,” Kate says solemnly, materialising from a back room of the store. “The cards told me. They’d tell you too, if you ever let me do a reading."“Oh great, we’re all chiming in on my love life now . Even the damn tarot cards. Fantastic.”Privacy is hard to come by when you work in close quarters, and the city shopping mall might be huge but its shop owners still know each other a little too well. Whether it is Jeremy from the gamers’ shop secretly crushing on Robin, or Doc and Dolls’ business rivalry - nothing is secret.So news travels fast after a store robbery, and it travels even faster when one of the cops on the case becomes a repeat customer in Waverly's cafe. Suddenly, everyone is cupid in disguise, sparing Waverly no blushes at all. And with Christmas round the corner and mistletoe hanging everywhere, there really is no better time for romance...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! It looks like I just couldn’t stay away for long!
> 
> Actually, in theory, I should have been back sooner. This fic is veeeery behind schedule given that I wanted to complete it by Christmas Eve. It should still happen (I’m intending to post Friday and then Monday) but I’m sort of flying by the seat of my pants. I’m really gonna do my best to get this all finished for you guys!!
> 
> As ever, I am here with another AU. I actually have one in-canon thing in the works, which hopefully I will get round to this year, but for now here is my Christmassy AU, set in amongst the Christmas retail rush. I mean, I even have something in here masquerading as 1% of a plot, if you tilt your head and shut one of your eyes. Please forgive me the almost wanton misuse of anything vaguely resembling a continuous thread of a story, in favour of character driven feels. 
> 
> It’s Christmas, since when did people carry through with plots. 
> 
> This is Hallmark-level cheese and fluff. This is what I’m about at Christmas (and all year round). 
> 
> Anyway, there’s really nothing else to add here. The overlong summary sort of does the work here. But basically, this is my ‘thank you’ fic for a year of such lovely support from everyone who’s read my fics. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this 12 (days of Christmas) act festive fluff fest.

**i.**

  
  


“Did you hear what happened?”

Waverly pauses, bottle of praline syrup in her hand ready to be up-ended into an enormous reusable to-go cup.

She casts her eyes pointedly around the room; half-unlit, most of the chairs still on the tables, and the shutters not even fully open.

“Jeremy, I haven’t even opened the shop properly yet.”

“I  _ know _ ,” he replies with a haughty sigh, “but news travels fast.”

“Well not that fast,” Waverly concludes, going back to making his praline latte.

When she had agreed to take the family cafe over, her Aunt Gus had warned against doing favours for regulars or for the people who worked nearby.

“You’ll do it once,” Gus had warned sagely, “and you’ll never get rid of them again.”

And, of course, she had been right.

One before-hours coffee for Jeremy a year ago when he had been in dire need of an early morning sugar and caffeine fix, and he had called around almost every day since - always before opening hours.

But in truth, Waverly liked him.

Plus, the poor guy had a tough job, trying to help technologically incompetent tourists (and, admittedly, locals) who had managed to break or lock their phones while abroad. Technically, his shop was a gamers’ haven (or as Wynonna less than charitably called it  _ nerdvana _ ), but he also fixed tech too because, well, money.

He was sweet and earnest and always perpetually a little bit nervous, although to be fair that might just be whenever Wynonna was around. She had a habit of winding him up, simply because she could.

It was all the more mean when Waverly considered that Jeremy had fixed Wynonna’s laptop almost for free when she downloaded a virus by accident. He said it was to pay back all the early hours coffees sold to him at mates’ rates, but Waverly privately suspected that he was just too scared to send over the invoices.

“So go on then,” she says, pouring out a generous measure of coconut milk and heating it, “what’s the gossip?”

“There was a big ol’ break-in one storey up,” Jeremy says in the tone of someone divulging  _ very _ shocking information. “A proper jewellery heist by the sounds of it.”

Waverly raises her eyebrows. “The Gardners? No shit?”

“Shit.”

Waverly clunks the metal jug against the counter before pouring.

“And they didn’t catch whoever did it?”

“It doesn’t sound like it, no.”

“Crap - well I guess they won’t be targeting cafes any time soon but - ”

She flashes a cautious look at Jeremy.

“I know, I’m worried about all the tech I keep locked up, but I don’t want to let stocks go low - not right before the holidays.”

Waverly lets her expression slide into one of sympathy as she hands the coffee over, but there does not seem to be much more that she can reasonably say.

“Well, I’m here for restorative coffee dude,” she says, “sorry I can’t do much more.”

“Yeah, about that…” Jeremy begins slowly, wearing the look of someone about to ask perhaps one favour too many. “Any chance of a flat white too?”

Waverly narrows her eyes and sends him the evils. “What? You couldn’t have told me that when I was making yours just now?”

Jeremy holds up his free hand in defence. “Sorry,  _ sorry _ !”

Waverly rolls her eyes but makes the drink without further complaint, both of them speculating on how someone might have gotten away with what sounded like a boat-load of jewellery without tripping any alarms.

They come to no reasonable conclusions, however, by the time Waverly hands over the second coffee. Jeremy makes a feeble attempt to pay, but falls silent when Waverly flashes him a pointed look.

“I hope the long game is worth it man, that’s all I can say.”

Jeremy visibly blanches. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t think I don’t know where that coffee is going. Right to the plant store, right?”

“I -  _ no _ . I have  _ no idea  _ what you - what plant store? There’s a  _ plant store _ here? - I just want two coffees today, alright?”

Unimpressed and unconvinced, Waverly simply stares him down as he backs away like a deer in the headlights.

“Just tell Robin you like him already!” she calls as Jeremy scurries out of the shop.

“Who’s Robin? I don’t know any Robins!” he shouts back without stopping, even as the quiver in his voice gives him away entirely.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Hear about the jewellery store?” Wynonna asks, flopping down on the worn leather couch without further fanfare.

Leather was kind of not Waverly’s thing (what with being a vegan and all), but she had found the couch in a secondhand store and it had precisely the comfy, beat-up look she had been searching for. Secondhand was probably fine, or so she told herself on multiple occasions. Besides, she wasn’t marketing the whole place as a vegan cafe yet (it was still technically Gus’, so she called the real shots), just trying to branch out and encourage new clientele.

“It’s literally all anyone wants to talk about, apparently,” Waverly says with a sigh, starting on Wynonna’s coffee without being asked. Her order was always the simplest and cheapest of all the people who called by before the start of the day for freebies - Americano, black, no sugar.

Wynonna shrugs. “Well it’s big news in a place like this. Everyone’s bored shitless and we never get good gossip.”

In theory, Wynonna worked the shop too. When Aunt Gus had started talking about slowing down and eventually retiring, it had come with a heavy set of hints that she really,  _ really _ did not want to sell the family business. It had gone on for weeks and neither Waverly nor her sister had been under any illusions as to what their aunt was trying to do.

Eventually, when neither of her nieces took the bait, Gus had dropped all pretences over dinner one night. She had snapped her fingers and said ‘ _ wait, I know!’ _ in a way that might almost have convinced someone that she had only just thought of the idea.

‘ _ Why don’t you girls take it over? You’ve been helping out for a while now anyway!’ _

This, at least, was true.

The cafe had been the sisters’ Saturday jobs for as long as Gus and Curtis had reasonably been able to send them to work, and by now they both truly knew the business like the backs of their hands.

More than that, Waverly  _ enjoyed  _ the work - and she had no other concrete plans lined up just yet.

There was perhaps college to think about in the future, but right out of high school she had wanted to take her time to explore her options first.

That was a few years ago now, and things had settled nicely. In fact, she was thinking of doing a correspondence degree, so that she could still run the store.

Gus still made the big calls, but Waverly had effectively revamped the shop to her own specifications. Wynonna worked with her, but mostly excelled at the social media and behind-the-scenes stuff that did not always require her presence in the front of the shop. Customer service was not really her  _ thing _ .

Waverly had put her heart and soul into getting vegan products to the forefront of the counter so that Wynonna could keep Facebook and Instagram interest up, and there was even a little community library in one corner, where customers could read away to their heart’s content. They had managed to make this up primarily from the defective stock donated by Chrissy who ran the bookshop on the second floor, and who traded battered-up books for free homemade pastries.

“Be fair Wynonna, there was that time we found out that Jolene from the food court was making some of her food a little more... _ spacey _ .”

“That was a good year ago,” Wynonna points out, gratefully taking a cup from Waverly. “And I’m not convinced she’s totally stopped now. Either way, it’s old news.”

Waverly concedes. “Fair point. Plus, I can see why they’re worried. Although I doubt whoever did it is stupid enough to come back here now. The cops will be looking for them.”

Wynonna replies with a derisive snort as she lifts her mug to take a sip.

“Not that I’d trust the feds around here to find a lost bagel with a - ”

“Are you guys open?”

Waverly’s gaze darts to the doors and she immediately feels a sting of embarrassment. Standing politely outside and obscured from the shoulders up by the metal shutters is...a cop - if the uniform is anything to go by.

Not looking around, Wynonna says, “do we look open?”

She probably does not intend for the other person to hear the comment (and she certainly does not realise that said person outside is a cop), but her words carry all the same.

“Okay,” the voice returns, its owner sounding unbothered by the open hostility. “I’ll just come back later then.”

Hurrying up from the couch, Waverly throws a look that is intended to say  _ we don’t turn away business,  _ but probably just looks vaguely stern. Close enough.

“No, it’s fine. There’s like, three minutes to go anyway,” Waverly says, heading towards the front door. She sticks her head underneath the shutter and starts to say, “sorry about that, what can I get f- ”

As soon as she is halfway out the door, however, her voice simply lodges in her throat.

She cannot say what she expected from the cop outside but whatever her preconceptions, they had been wholly surpassed by the woman standing opposite her.

Cops, Waverly decides immediately, are  _ not _ supposed to look like that. It was only acceptable for the ones in movies, because nobody thought they were really cops.

But Waverly had somehow found herself face-to-face with a completely beautiful lady cop first thing on a Monday morning. She is wonderfully tall, with pretty red hair all tied back in a masterful braid, and a sweet little birthmark at the corner of her left eye.

The officer waits a moment for Waverly to finish the sentence, eyes drifting slightly as if looking for a reason why Waverly might have stopped speaking so abruptly.

Eventually, when Waverly does not resume her question, the cop answers anyway.

“I know it’s cheeky of me, sorry. I was just hoping to grab a cappuccino to go on my way upstairs.”

Feeling the sensation of a blush creeping from her collar and up her neck, Waverly quickly nods her head.

“Sure, it’s no problem,” she replies, perhaps a little too brightly. “It’s what we’re here for!”

She winces at her overt customer services voice, before hefting the shutter the rest of the way up and gesturing for the cop to come inside.  

On her way across the shop floor, she notes Wynonna watching her, alerted by the odd cadence of Waverly’s voice. She sees as Wynonna catches sight of the cop and at least has the good grace to look mildly abashed. Her sister does not say anything however, just unlocks her phone and goes back to her coffee.

“Size?” Waverly asks as she bustles about the kitchen, grabbing milk from the fridge and setting up the coffee to brew.

“Large please,” the cop replies after some deliberation. “I think it’s gonna be one of those days.”

“Are you here for the break-in upstairs?” Waverly asks as she bustles about, trying to move fast and not look over at the woman’s almost unfairly pretty face for too long.

“Wow, that news sure travelled. Yeah, I am.”

“People here talk,” Waverly explains over the noise of the milk heating up.

The cop nods, her eyes tracking over the food in the fridges and long counter display cabinet.

“Is it just drinks right now?” she asks carefully, briefly eyeing up the time on her watch.

“For you?” Waverly asks brightly, dusting cocoa powder over the coffee, “of course not.”

She looks up just in time to see a look of surprise flicker over the cop’s face. Her comment had been her usual customer services spiel, arguably with a little more genuine enthusiasm thrown in. She had not expected it to garner any particular reaction.

Unexpectedly, however, the other woman’s expression shifts as she casts Waverly a quick, pointed glance.

“Do you make all this yourself?” she asks, stepping closer to all the homemade cakes and pastries and reading each of the labels closely.

“Some of it,” Waverly says, feeling her heart pick up when the cop’s big, soulful brown eyes keep darting back to her face every so often. “The rest of it my aunt makes, she uh - ”

Waverly trails off as quickly as she started, realising that she has very little to add and that the cop had not asked because she was interested in Waverly talking about her aunt.

The woman, however, seems unperturbed. She simply meets Waverly eye’s in a bold look and asks,

“Well what did  _ you _ make?”

Waverly points out the muffins, scones, and pastries that were under her charge, voice wavering slightly as the cop resolutely does not look away.

“Cool, well I’ll take one of those then please,” she says eventually, gesturing at a vanilla cream-filled bear claw that Waverly had made.  

Happy to have a service to provide, Waverly busies herself by putting the cake into a branded paper bag and ringing the two items through the register.

When she had all but floundered in the cop’s presence a moment ago, the last thing she had expected was for the other woman to start flirting with her.

Admittedly, it was hard to say whether that  _ was _ the cop’s intention, but it certainly seemed that way from the looks she was sending across the counter.

She pays on card, tapping it against the reader and gently packing the bear claw into the top of her backpack.

“I hope you like it,” Waverly says, feeling almost shy at the idea of the woman in front of her passing judgement on her baking.

“Oh, I’m absolutely sure I will,” the cop says, briefly eyeing up the name on Waverly’s badge, “Waverly. Thank you for serving me early,” she adds with a wry, amused smile.  

Waverly swallows.

“No problem, anytime.”

The cop pauses as she makes to leave, turning back with her eyebrows raised in playful challenge.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. I could be back and forth until the case is closed, and I might just take you up on that offer.”

She flashes Waverly a winning smile and mercifully makes to depart, because Waverly has absolutely no idea what she would have said in response.

She watches the woman leave until she has passed by the shop window, still staring at the empty mall walkway for a moment or two after.

When Wynonna speaks a minute later, Waverly jumps and nearly knocks a blue patterned mug to the ground. She had all but forgotten that her sister was there.

“What the hell did I just witness?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


All morning, the only thing everyone wants to discuss is the break-in.

Customers and other shop owners alike stop by for coffee, and everyone wants to know if there are any updates to go along with their orders.

In truth there is very little that Waverly knows either first- or second-hand. Jeremy had somehow known that a lot of jewellery had been taken, but where he had garnered that information was anyone's guess.

By lunchtime, Waverly is half-excited to have something vaguely dramatic happening in the vicinity, and half-sick of hearing the same questions over and over.

The only positive is that it is a fair indicator that footfall must have been good if she is  _ that  _ sick of the conversation.

“I swear if one more person mentions the damn break-in,” Rosita says with a heavy sigh when she calls in just before the real lunchtime rush.

“Oh thank God I'm not the only one,” Waverly replies, grinning. She has always felt that she and Rosita gelled well, and she enjoys her daily visits from the other woman.

“I feel bad and all, but jeez. I don't know anything about it, do I look like a detective?”

“Maybe they think all the booze you sell is a cover,” Waverly points out sagely as she sets about on Rosita’s usual lunchtime purchase. Like all of the mall staff who use Waverly's shop, Rosita usually sticks to one or two slightly varying orders.

The one thing that can be said for being shoved in a pitch amongst all the other independent, artisanal retailers is that they are willing to support their peers and eschew chains.

Rosita snorts. “And what? I'm actually part of the secret service?”

Waverly shrugs, playing out the joke.

“Weirder things have happened.”

“I can't tell if you're now insinuating that I  _ couldn't  _ be a spy.”

Waverly bites back a smile.

“I'd never imply such a thing - I'm much too scared of you.”

“Uh,  _ mean _ much? I'm not scary at all.”

Waverly silently begs to differ, thinking that she would bet on Rosita in almost any fight. Girl's fiery.

Then again, Waverly is well aware that her friend is a big softie too, deep down at least. She just wouldn't get on Rosita’s wrong side is all.

Changing the subject, Waverly asks, “have you passed by to sneak a look?”

“At the jewellery store?” Rosita asks, already picking at her sandwich. Waverly nods. “No, I didn't have cover in the shop. But Doc told me there's nothing to see when he came to watch it for me now. Whoever did it got in without breaking the windows or forcing entry and now all there is, apparently, is a police cordon. Inside job if you ask me.”

Waverly pulls a face before sprinkling chocolate curls onto Rosita's whipped cream. “Certainly sounds like it, but I don’t think it can be. Wynonna has known Mercedes for years, so I think she’s going to head over later, see if she and Beth are alright. I know neither of them would do something like that.”

Rosita gratefully accepts the plate and mug Waverly hands over, stepping to the side of the counter so that she can continue speaking while Waverly serves more customers. This is their usual lunchtime routine and, more often than not, they are joined by Jeremy too.

He is already in line, about three people from the counter. It is as only Waverly raises a hand to greet him that she catches sight of perhaps the last thing she needed an audience for: the cop from earlier stepping inside the shop for the second time that day.

She looks just as pretty as Waverly remembers.

(And Lord, has she been remembering all morning.)

The officer joins the back of the line and scrolls idly on her phone as she waits to creep forward and eventually be served.

By the time she has reached the front, both Rosita and Jeremy are loitering by the counter for a social visit.

“Hello again,” the cop says, smiling warmly.

“Should I take this as a good review on my baking?” Waverly asks, eyes flitting a little shyly away from the cop’s face every so often. It has not escaped Waverly's notice that she has deep,  _ deep  _ dark eyes and an uncanny way of turning them to another person when she converses. Even on only the second interaction, Waverly almost believes that those eyes can see through rock, let alone skin and bone.

“Very, very good,” the woman says appreciatively, still smiling. “Thought I'd pick up some lunch too.”

She points out the sandwich she wants and asks this time for a small hot chocolate.

“I have to say, I didn’t think you’d be back,” Waverly says, running the items through the register and throwing the cop an apologetic look. “After my sister was so lacking in tact this morning.”

The other woman laughs, mirth a beautiful expression on her face.

“I’m just a rookie still, but funnily enough even I’ve had worse abuse than that on the job.”

Absurdly, Waverly feels herself blush. It is stupid really, because she knows the other woman is only joking.

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Almost as if to push away any impending awkwardness on Waverly’s part, the cop adds, “but your sister _ does  _ look scary.”

She makes a show of casting around the shop to look for Wynonna, even though she must know that she is not there.

“Oh she does the behind the scenes stuff, no face-to-face customer services unless we're really slammed,” Waverly explains. “And she's all talk really.”

From beside her she hears Jeremy make a little noise in the back of his throat which suggests he disagrees.

“I must admit, that does make sense,” the cop replies, very obviously referring to Wynonna not engaging with customers. Again, she seems to have a knack for coming across as eminently good-natured and to make it very clear she is only making a joke. “At least I can rest easy knowing it's not a personal vendetta against cops only.”

Waverly gives a little theatrical shudder. “Ugh. Wynonna and authority:  _ bad  _ combo.”

The cop gives another laugh; a sweet little chuckle of a sound that makes Waverly’s head swim slightly.

It is not a pretty laugh exactly, but somehow still melodic and addictive, like Waverly already wants to hear it again.

Mentally, she gives herself a little shake.

It is no use getting hung up on a pretty girl. Even if she is very, very pretty indeed.

“I shall remember that about your sister when I come back in again.” The officer makes this statement very evenly, like she wants to be abundantly clear on the matter of her return.

“She is nice really,” Waverly insists with a smile which the other woman returns.

“Oh, I believe you,” she says, voiced pitched so seriously that it is obvious she is in some way joking and, for the first time, Waverly sees the interaction catch Rosita’s attention.

Waverly hurries to finish the cop’s order in double time, but her friend has other ideas.

“I didn’t know Waverly was on friendly terms with a cop?” Rosita says, smiling innocently and choosing to ignore the glower Waverly throws her.

“I’m not sure if I can say ‘friendly terms’ just yet, since this is only the second time we’ve met.” The woman flashes Waverly a very deliberate look. “But I’m doing my best.”

“Well, I’ll make friends with everyone,” Rosita says, sticking out her hand for the woman to shake and raising her eyebrows in a pointed expression. When she speaks again, she pitches her voice as a question. “Especially if they’re working on a break-in and making sure the rest of us don’t get robbed too? Rosita, by the way.”

“Nicole,” the cop says with a smile, shaking Rosita’s hand. “And since I’m guessing you must know I can’t really talk about it, I’ll just say that we’re working on it as fast as we can - and on making sure you guys won’t be targeted. Which store do you have?”

Rosita is more or less able to point out her own store from Waverly’s window, and she indicates to the little shop with shelf-upon-shelf of hand-made, hand-bottled concoctions. Rosita has an uncanny knack for alchemy, and seems to be able to homebrew just about anything vaguely alcoholic and make it taste good. She works with the trends and adapts as she goes. She is an easy person to make friends with at the best of times, but she offers samples and lets some of the other shop owners test out her newest experiments before she releases them for general sale. Gin is super in right now, and Waverly likes the one she has flavoured with blueberries best. Regardless, no one ever really wants to turn down any free stuff from her store - much like Waverly and Wynonna’s cafe.

Nicole turns to look where Rosita is pointing. Inside the shop, Waverly can just about see Doc sat at the counter, serving a pair of customers.

“You make all that stuff yourself?” Nicole asks, sounding impressed. At Rosita’s easy, confident nod she adds, “a super talented bunch around here.”

She uses this as another excuse to meet Waverly’s eye, and Waverly does her best to hold the woman’s -  _ Nicole’s  _ \- gaze without balking.

“We do our bit,” Rosita says, not missing the startled look on Waverly’s face and smirking openly at Waverly’s internal crisis.

“Well, I can’t do anything like that, so colour me super impressed,” Nicole says easily, once again paying with her card.

“Well I couldn’t be a cop,” Waverly says quickly, handing Nicole’s tray of food to her. “That’s super impressive.”

Off to the side, Rosita’s smirk grows.

“I don’t know about that,” Nicole says, looking and sounding genuinely modest about her occupation.

“Well I think you’re - uh, it’s impressive. A very impressive vocation.”

This time, no one could miss the flare of colour on Waverly’s cheeks, and Rosita in particular seems to enjoy the moment.

Nicole, however, takes pity on Waverly and excuses herself, taking a seat across the room right next to the little library station.

Rosita opens her mouth to speak, but Waverly is too quick.

“Whatever you have to say, I can guarantee you I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, but I wanna say it so bad.”

Ignoring her, Waverly turns to her next customer and flashes a toothy grin.

“Hi there sir, sorry for the wait. What can I get for you?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The 1pm lunchtime crowd rushes through, and the line to the store seems almost endless.

Waverly never begrudges good business, because it means that the products are popular and the takings should be ample, but sometimes when she is rushed off her feet all she can do is pray for the inevitable reprieve after two o’clock.

Today it is even more acute, the longing for the lunch rush to die down.

Nicole, having very little distance to cover to get back to work, seems set to stay until the last minute, sipping at her drink and dipping into a book from the cafe’s collection.

Waverly cannot seem to help it when her eyes dart to Nicole’s table every so often as she works.

There is something magnetic about the woman. It is hard for Waverly to pinpoint, given that they have just met, but Nicole is the kind of person who courts at least a second look.

(And, in honesty, Waverly has taken far more than just two.)

Once or twice, Nicole glances up from her page and catches Waverly looking. She smiles every time, but Waverly is too embarrassed to meet her eye and always looks away immediately.

“You know it’s very mean of you to rib him for the Robin thing,” Rosita points out eventually in a stage whisper, jerking her head at Jeremy. He gives a strangled, startled little cry and goes to deny everything. Rosita flashes him an unimpressed look. “Come on man, why even bother at this point?”

Jeremy’s protestations die out as quickly as they began.

“Besides, I’m almost tempted to side with you this time. Because Waverly’s talked a great game until now, but I don’t think she’s got a leg to stand on now she’s been flashing moon eyes at Officer Hot Cop over there this whole hour.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy says, sending Waverly a smug smile across the counter.

“Oh I’m not siding with you that much. I’m only saying Waves isn’t in a position to give you shit for it now. I didn’t say I wouldn’t continue to give you shit.”

“Moon eyes is way too dramatic,” Waverly says absently, wiping down the counter and enjoying a breather during a brief break in service. She had made herself a herbal tea earlier, and is only now able to take a sip as it grows cold. “Also, keep your voice down - I don’t want you losing me business.”

Rosita snorts. “You’re slammed in here right now. She’s not gonna hear. Plus I saw her catch you staring like five times already. I think she knows you’re being a perv.”

“Do you ever not exaggerate?” Waverly says, rolling her eyes. “It was once and that’s not what is happening here. She’s hot, that’s all.”

“Well for what it’s worth I’m pretty sure she thinks you’re hot too,” Rosita replies, chancing a glance at Nicole. “So you’re gonna have to get your shit together when she keeps making excuses to come back.”

“What excuses? She’s on duty here, she drinks coffee. This is a coffee  _ shop _ . It’s not that weird,” Waverly protests. “I’m not gonna complain if I get to look at her pretty face for a few more days. Not like Jeremy full-blown crushing on Robin for nearly a year now.”

“Can you stop involving me in this?” Jeremy cries, throwing his arms up.

With a disinterested sigh, Rosita checks the time on her phone and swears quietly under her breath. The lunch hour is always their fastest hour of the day too, albeit for completely different reasons.

“She’s right man, you gotta make a move soon.”

Jeremy tuts, but follows Rosita’s lead to make a move back to work. “Who’s side are you actually on here?”

“My own,” Rosita says with a smile before turning back to Waverly. “And you can thank me for getting you on a first-name basis whenever you want to stop lying to yourself.”

Waverly flings a cloth at the back of Rosita’s head. “Why is that even something you’re trying to take credit for?”

“Because I deserve credit,” Rosita calls, voice sing-song, as she leaves. “I’m a genius.”

The slight commotion draws Nicole’s attention for a moment. Unperturbed, she flashes a small smile at Waverly before going back to her book.

  
  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
  


**ii.**

  
  


“We had the law in the shop today,” Wynonna says out of nowhere, squashing her mashed potatoes into the gravy on her plate.

Her announcement draws a startled look from both Gus and Curtis around the dinner table.

“She’s winding you up,” Waverly says, spearing an enormous floret of broccoli on her fork. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Not for us, no,” Wynonna interjects, “but the Gardners got robbed.”

Gus gives out a little gasp, asking for further details and resolving to call the family later that night.

Wynonna shrugs. “I couldn’t even get close to the shop so I messaged Mercedes earlier, but nothing yet. I’m sure she has lots of people to get back to.”

“So did the cops want information from you two?”

“Nope, just coffee,” Wynonna says, sounding oddly chipper. “I think Waverly liked serving her though.”

Without hesitation, Waverly kicks Wynonna under the table, rather as though they are kids again.

To her immense credit, Wynonna does not react at all, even though Waverly knows it must have hurt.

Fortunately nothing more is said on the subject, because news of a break-in at least manages to hold far more appeal than what her aunt and uncle probably suspect is a throwaway comment from Wynonna.

  
  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
  


**iii.**

  
  


Nicole returns to the shop first thing the next morning, pretty much as promised. She offers a gentle shout into the cafe from outside, once again waiting to be invited in before proper opening hours. This time, there is no one else around and Waverly finds herself feeling unspeakably grateful.

“You’re sure you really don’t mind?” Nicole asks, looking vaguely concerned. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all,” Waverly says with a grin. “Half the people who work in the building have already been in for coffee and well, technically you’re working in the building right now.”

“So this is a case of special treatment, huh?” Nicole asks, smiling and quirking an eyebrow playfully. “What happens when the case gets closed?”

Waverly wags a stern finger. “Then you better not think of trying to creep in early.”

Nicole laughs, drifting towards the counter and eyeing up the cakes in the display case.

“Do you want a cappuccino again?” Waverly asks, already reaching into the fridge.

“Yes, please. And a chocolate croissant today as well.”

“Today?” Waverly repeats. “Sounds like you have a plan.”

“Oh I do,” Nicole says, voice pitched low in a deliberate show of confidence. The way it sounds to Waverly’s ears, coupled with the self-assured look on Nicole’s face, makes her feel like her stomach rearranges itself entirely. “I’ve decided I’m going to work my way through all of your creations.”

Waverly beams. “If there’s something you like that we don’t stock, I can always try to branch out. We’re always happy to get suggestions.”

In actual fact, this is not strictly true.

Waverly has never offered any such service before, and a voice in the back of her head prays fervently that Nicole does not have anything too specific in mind.

“I’ll have to have a think,” Nicole says evenly, “but everything here looks wonderful. I doubt I’ll have enough time to sample it all as it is.”

Waverly wonders briefly if it is morally unacceptable to hope for a crime to go unsolved for longer, just so a hot cop might keep calling into her store. Because really, she would have no complaints whatsoever if she had to keep looking at Nicole’s pretty face first thing in the morning for a while.  

“Well we’ll be adding more Christmas-themed things as the month goes on,” Waverly says, trying to use her most persuasive-sounding voice. She is not quite sure whether she is trying to sell the products or her own company. “You just missed the last of the Hallowe’en stuff selling out. I leave all that down to my aunt really, but all the same - her cooking is delicious.”

“Did you learn from her?” Nicole asks, absently fishing her card out of her pocket.

Waverly nods, holding the reader out for Nicole to use. “Yeah. My aunt and uncle sort of looked out for me and my sister. She taught me all that stuff but I only ever really took to cakes. My cooking - ” Waverly pauses and pulls a face. “A lot to be desired.”

Nicole chuckles and looks down as she makes her payment. “Well your aunt taught you well, if yesterday’s food was anything to go by.”

“Thank you. I hope this morning’s will keep the standard up.”

Waverly smiles, feeling a little glow of pride in her chest. She does not always accept compliments easily, but Nicole makes the comment feel natural. Plus, Waverly is always looking for any sign, small or large, that she is doing well with the family business. Bashful, she flicks her eyes away from Nicole briefly to press a few buttons on the register, before eventually flitting her gaze back upwards again.

She finds Nicole watching boldly, ready to meet her eye.

“I have absolutely no doubt about that. And, work permitting, I will be bringing my custom this afternoon again - if you’ll have me.”

She says this with a playful glint in her eye and, this time, it is obvious that she is testing the waters.

“Well my aunt always said never to turn down good business,” Waverly says, suddenly feeling as mischievous as Nicole looks.  

If the officer is put out by the lukewarm response, she does remarkably well not to react. She ducks her head slightly as she grins, eyes moving quickly to the clock for the briefest of moments. It is clear that she needs to leave, but once again she seems to be hanging on until the last moment.

“I see,” she says pointedly, the wicked smile on her face evidence that the undertone of the conversation has not passed her by. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

She starts to drift ever so slowly towards the door, paper cup and bag both firmly clutched in one hand.  

“Yeah,” Waverly says, pitching her voice so as to sound mildly unconvinced by her aunt’s sentiment. Nicole is almost at the door when she adds, “except that it was my uncle who said never to turn down good company.”

This makes Nicole laugh, and, as she finally leaves, she calls over her shoulder,

“I’ll see you later.”

Feeling inexplicably bold, and knowing she will probably overthink her decision for hours, Waverly calls back, “you better!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Oh, heads up,” Rosita says, looking pleased as she delicately pulls apart a piece of focaccia bread off the top of her sandwich. “It’s handbags at dawn.”

Waverly sighs. This can only mean one thing.

Everyone on this floor of the mall knows about the supposed rivalry between Xavier Dolls and John Holliday, who, for reasons known only to him, seems to only go by “Doc”. He states it is because he trained as a dentist, but no one is quite sure whether he is serious or not. Certainly, Waverly could not see him pulling any teeth, at least not in a professional capacity.

Both men run similar - but not precisely the same - stores, appropriately located at either end of the floor. Dolls, who is ex-military, is a trainer and also sells a vast array of sports equipment out of a well-stocked storefront right at the main entrance of the building.

It means he has a far easier time getting business, much to Doc’s chagrin. The latter’s store does not receive as much footfall, and he makes as big a deal out of this as possible. (“We’d all have great takings if we were as on show as you are, Dolls”.

“My reputation precedes me, Holliday, and that’s what counts in the end”.)  

When it comes down to it, however, Doc does just fine too because he specialises in certain sports more - boxing high among them - and he even earns enough to engage a part-time employee, which is more than many of the independent stores here. While Dolls is into training at heart, Doc stocks more  _ stuff _ and even has a little section of the shop dedicated more to the kind of hardware and paraphernalia that courts a non-ironic ‘man cave’ sign somewhere nearby.

Unlike Doc, most people here are one-man (or woman, or person) bands and instead all help each other out by standing in at lunchtime or during emergencies. Everyone here gets on, except for Doc and Dolls.

Or, that is what they would have everyone believe. Secretly, Waverly and Rosita - who somehow goes way back with Doc, in a way that neither of them has ever fully explained - believe that the two men get on just fine. Or they would, if they only stopped being such big babies.

“So long as they don’t get at each other’s throats in here too much, I’m game,” Waverly says directly to Rosita. It is always entertaining to see these two grown men become so cagey in each other’s presence, circling around like they are both back in the ring.

It was a rare occasion when they interacted since they took such great pains to steer clear of each other, but it usually happened in Waverly’s cafe. Because of course it did.

Once in a blue moon, they both called in for coffee at the same time. Mostly, it is like watching a soap opera unfold. Sometimes, Waverly worries that a genuine argument might break out.

“Well at least you’ve got a cop on call if you need one,” Rosita says playfully.

“Don’t you start on that again,” Waverly replies, only not taking the bait because she is watching Doc and Dolls warily to see if they are about to start trading insults in their customary way.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure they’d get on if they actually tried a bit harder,” Rosita says, dropping her voice.

Waverly considers this for a moment, filling a mug with a chamomile tea bag and ample boiling water. “Yeah but, where’s the theatrics in that?”

Rosita’s grin deepens. “Well, quite.”

Jeremy - who definitely had no complaints about either of the men facing off against each other in increasingly ostentatious sports get-ups - had pointed out once that Doc ‘n’ Dolls sounded like a kids’ TV duo. No one had mentioned this to either of the men in question.

(Plus, Waverly privately suspects that they both secretly had a thing for Wynonna, which didn’t really help matters. No one wanted to ramp up the tension even further.)

“Their differences are too pronounced and their similarities too entrenched.”

This from Mattie Perley, who sells an array of hand-crafted iron and steel products in the store next to Jeremy’s. Rosita, tongue firmly in cheek, had suggested on numerous occasions that she could supply replica nerd weapons for Jeremy and his regular cohort of sci-fi and fantasy enthusiasts. It did not catch on especially well with Mattie or her twin sister. Perhaps it was demeaning to their craft - Waverly couldn’t quite tell.

(Or, as Jeremy had put it at the time: ‘you could say that went down like a...lead balloon’.

Rosita had hit him on the arm. Hard.)

Mattie pays for her tea and retires to a quiet corner of the cafe with no further comment.

“Well,” Rosita says, biting back a chuckle, “that’s far more profound than either of us made it sound.”

But that, Waverly thinks, is Mattie all over; understated and deep in a way that was almost, almost unsettling.

As a whole though, she was well-liked around here because once you braved her prickly exterior she was quick to offer favours to anyone who needed them, and she had a remarkable ability to suggest home remedies for the most persistent of ailments. This in particular was a godsend at this time of year. No one could afford a cold during Christmas season.

Across the room, Doc and Dolls are throwing daggers at each other as they step inside.

They both reach the counter almost in tandem, and Dolls eventually hangs back.

“Holliday. After you.” Towards anyone else, this would be a genuine moment of courtesy, but Doc immediately grows suspicious. Waverly watches as his hackles rise, metaphorically speaking, and he comes to a rapid halt.

“No need,” he says, giving a grand sweep of his hands. “Ladies first.”

Dolls raises an eyebrow and immediately Doc’s gaze drifts to Rosita and Waverly. “No offence meant, of course. By which I mean, no offence meant by lumping you in with this underhanded yellow-belly.”

At the women’s confused look, Dolls steps forward with a crisp new bill already clutched in his hand.

“He thinks I’m actively stealing business now. I can’t help it that customers prefer my store to his.”

Behind him, Doc gives a wordless, exasperated growl. “I know you are lying and I will prove it.”

By now, however, Dolls has stepped up to the counter to place his order. He replies to Doc, but it is hard to tell whether the other man hears as Dolls speaks because he is already facing Waverly.

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time, Holliday.”

Perhaps through a shared sense of stubbornness, neither speaks again and - given that Waverly knows their regular orders - she prepares their coffees at the same time in order to clear the air as fast as possible.

As soon as they leave, both men turn in opposite directions and stalk off past a bemused-looking Nicole who has presumably turned up to order some lunch and immediately picks up on the terse atmosphere.

Rosita, charitably deciding to ignore Nicole’s presence for now, simply laughs at the men’s departing backs.

“Have you noticed that they even order the same damn coffee?” She pitches her voice low in parody. “Black filter coffee, no cream, no sugar. We drink coffee like  _ men _ .”  

  
  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
  


**iv.**

  
  


“A whole working week in the mall under your belt now, huh?” Waverly declares, already on her way to making a cappuccino when Nicole gives her familiar shout beneath the shutters.

She steps inside, smiling.

“Happy Friday indeed. Time sure does fly,” she says, gait easy as she drifts towards the counter.

True to her word, she had selected a different breakfast pastry every morning so far, and continues her tradition this morning with a cinnamon roll. Waverly picks out one that looks extra sugary-sweet.

“Is the case going okay?” Waverly asks, more out of courtesy than through any innate desire for gossip. Mercedes had called Wynonna a couple of times during the week, and there was frustratingly minimal evidence to go on. So far, all anyone knew was that the thief didn’t trip an alarm, didn’t seem to have left any DNA, and had disabled the security footage in the shop. They best anyone could tell was that they acted alone, because they did at least show up on the mall cameras, but had managed to completely cover their face thanks to an oversized, nondescript black hoodie and what appeared to be some kind of balaclava.

“Not so great,” Nicole says with a grimace. “We’ll get there eventually, they’ve put some of the better detectives on this one.”

Although Waverly knows any cop might say this to try and reassure the public, for some reason she actually does believe what Nicole says. She suspects it is her eyes - they always look completely honest, somehow.

“I’m sure they’ll have made at least one mistake,” Waverly says, pouring Nicole’s coffee.

“Well, criminals usually do eventually. We’ll get em here, or at the next one. People have patterns. And for now, they want to keep a uniformed presence here, just to discourage anyone else from trying their luck.”

Waverly pulls a sympathetic face. “That can’t be much fun for you, though.”

“Yeah,” Nicole says with a chuckle. “ _ Not _ what I had in mind when I joined up. But you get it drummed into you from day one at the Academy that you have to take the crappy cases with the juicy ones - that’s just policing. And I’ve only just qualified, so I’m gonna get these jobs for now.”

“When did you graduate?” Waverly asks, now doodling flowers into the cappuccino foam in an attempt to prolong the interaction.

“In the summer,” Nicole says, and Waverly can still see the little flash of pride on her face, like an afterglow from having achieved something so momentous so recently.

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to prove yourself. And soon.”

This makes Nicole’s smile widen. “We’ll see, I guess. But thank you. And for the coffee again. You’re sure you don’t mind me calling in early?”

“Nope,” Waverly says, popping the ‘p’ and totalling up Nicole’s items. “It’s nice having you here first thing.”

For a split second, she freezes, not having intended to say anything of the sort. She chances a glance at Nicole’s face and finds her still smiling widely and, mercifully, looking completely unperturbed.

“It’s nice calling in,” Nicole replies easily. “You’re good at this, at making people feel welcome.”

Waverly smiles, quietly thinking to herself that she does not make half so great an effort with every customer.

But that is certainly something Nicole does not need to know.

“So, do they give cops the weekend off?” she asks, deliberately changing the subject.

“Not always. But they’re giving this cop this weekend off, yeah.”

Nicole pays - always, apparently, by card - and Waverly once again stretches the conversation out.

“Do you have any fun plans?”

Nicole laughs like the idea might an absurd one. “Depends. Does sleep count?”

“Oh, sleep  _ definitely _ counts.”

“Then yeah, I have a ton of fun plans.”

They both laugh, and Waverly tries to ignore how this lapse of concentration means that their hands bump together when Waverly passes Nicole’s purchases across the counter.

Nicole’s hands are soft and wonderfully warm.

When the laughter dies down, Nicole grows sheepish. “I uh, I only got posted here a couple of months ago. Being a cop you don’t get a lot of free time, and not always at a time when everyone else does. I haven’t met a ton of people here yet, so.”

She finishes with a shrug, almost as though she has to explain herself.

In a roundabout way, Waverly understands. She and Wynonna had practically been outsiders after their mother left and their father died. Making friends could be tough and it took time. As working adults, time was not always something they had.

She does not wish to tell Nicole this, however, so she just pulls a sympathetic face.

“Well, you know me now. And I recall Rosita telling you she’s friends with everyone. Which is actually true. But we’re always working too, so we might not be of much help.”

Nicole laughs again, bashful expression disappearing quickly. “You get some days off, surely?”

“My aunt still works one day a week to give me the time, and I know she’d do two if I did need another day off. Sometimes, though, I come in with her even when she works. She desperately wanted to retire and I feel bad that we can’t really afford to hire anyone else at the moment.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure she appreciates it,” Nicole pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “And who knows, maybe I’ll call in for a coffee anyway this weekend. I should probably do some shopping I’ve been putting off.”

Completely without meaning to, Waverly finds herself grinning widely at the thought. “Well, you’re always welcome.”

Finally, and with a regretful look on her face, Nicole turns to make a move. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, but I really have to go - ”

“No, it’s fine. Will I be seeing you at lunchtime?” Waverly asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Of course,” Nicole replies, another beautiful smile lighting up her face as she leaves.

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  


(“Bad news, dude.”

“It’s a Sunday Wynonna, so no bad news allowed,” Waverly says, returning from a late lunch hour that she had taken, for once, away from the shop. Gus had offered to run the cafe for the day, but with no other plans forthcoming, Wynonna and Waverly had called in too. The latter had suggested a girls-only dinner in the evening, to lessen the blow of a full week of work without a break. With the winter setting in, business seemed to surge and it couldn’t really be turned down or ignored.

“Well I can’t help the day. Or the fact that your cop came in while you were out.”

“Whose cop?” This from Gus, who chooses this precise moment to return from what appears to be an emergency milk run to the store upstairs.

“Waverly’s,” Wynonna answers as she takes the milk from Gus, almost as though that explains everything.

“What, she came in for coffee?” Waverly asks, ignoring Gus’ interjection.

“No Waves, for batteries,” Wynonna says, heaving a sigh. “Of course coffee. And, I assume, to look for you. She certainly  _ seemed _ disappointed when I served her.”

Waverly makes a show of rolling her eyes. “Don’t be absurd. That was probably your stunning lack of people skills.”

With a snort, Wynonna pretends to throw the container at Waverly.

Standing off to the side with her hands on her hips, Gus looks between the girls.

“Does anyone want to illuminate me?”

“The cop I mentioned on Monday,” Wynonna says with a shrug. “She’s a regular now. And Waverly  _ likes _ her.”

With a deliberate sidestep behind Gus, Waverly pulls an incredulous face at her sister, designed entirely to say  _ shut the hell up right now! _

She hasn’t exactly had that conversation with Gus and Curtis yet. It was easy to keep putting if off when she had been perpetually single since dumping Champ right out of high school.

Happily, however, either Gus does not pick up on Wynonna’s tone or she ignores it entirely. The sisters have been in her care for over a decade; she is used to them squabbling by now. Instead, she drifts off to check their supplies.

“I met her a week ago I do  _ not _ like her,” Waverly hisses, coming to stand close to Wynonna at the counter.

“Sure Waverly, whatever you say,” Wynonna says with a smirk. “Never thought my own little sister would be into a  _ cop _ . Ugh.”

“I’m  _ not -  _ ”

“ _ Yeah right _ . And next you’ll be telling me you’re not completely bummed that you missed her today.”

Waverly protests suitably and she even sounds convincing to her own ears, but of course, she  _ is _ completely bummed to have missed Nicole’s weekend visit to the store.)  

 

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  


**v.**

  
  


“Waverly, hi! It’s great to see you. How’s it going?”

Robin Jett is one of the only people from high school who Waverly has even a shred of time for. And it would be fair to say that he never had an easy ride of it back when they were children.

Most of the kids had given him hell almost endlessly, even before he got outed.

Even to this day, Waverly couldn’t really understand it.

Robin had always been sweet and easygoing, and if his unassuming nature might have made him an easy target then his gentle, effortless wit should have been something of a buffer.

When they met as juniors he had been kind and funny, and if not explicitly confident and outgoing he was, at least, as settled in his skin as preteen kid might be.

But by the time they graduated, he had learned to do as Waverly had for years; to keep his head down, keep quiet, and ignore the comments.

Perhaps his soft-spoken, placid nature had been enough to clue some of the bigger, burlier boys into Robin’s secret because initially Waverly herself had barely had an inkling that he was gay.

Arguably, pre-teen Waverly was a little oblivious to those sorts of things anyway (as was teenaged Waverly, in fairness) because it took her long enough to even work herself out. Certainly, it took her longer than it had taken Robin.

And it wasn’t that she subscribed to any idea of gay stereotypes anyway (after all, she was hardly a bi stereotype herself), but even if she had - Robin wasn’t really overtly any of them in high school.

He was quieter than many of the boys in their grade, and he never gelled especially well with that many of them (Perry Crofte had always gone against the grain of his sports buddies and showed Robin kindness, but that was Perry all over). But even so, it wasn’t like there was actually anything there by way of stereotypes for the other kids to latch onto. And yet, somehow, in the way of school children, they had just known.  

Perhaps it was enough that he didn’t always want to play football in the schoolyard with the other boys in his grade. Perhaps it was enough that he still liked video games and comic books at a time when other kids saw that as a target for singling out a kid as a nerd. Perhaps it was something that small. But generally speaking, the boys in school - the likes of Champ Hardy and his friends - generally needed a wrecking ball through a window to make them aware of pretty much anything.

In fact, Robin had even dated Chrissy Nedley for a while, but neither of them was especially invested in the relationship, and its existence never once alleviated the bullying Robin tolerated for years.

Waverly had always done her best to be extra nice to Robin in the hopes it would make him feel better, even when she and Chrissy got subsumed into Stephanie Jones’ group of mildly terrifying Popular Girls. This only happened once Waverly started dating Champ, and those girls had never really been friends to Waverly - in fact they had been the ones terrorising her and Wynonna when they had just lost their father.

Even now, Waverly still wonders on it all; how Robin could have dealt with so much negativity, including being outed in the most horrible of ways, and still be so kind and gentle with everyone.

She could see why Jeremy liked him.

In fact, she was pretty sure Robin would be interested too - if Jeremy would only make it clear the whole thing was even an option. She cannot even be certain that Robin knows Jeremy is gay.

“I’m good. I’m only sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been around.” Waverly says, smiling and strolling over to Robin’s counter, where he is marking the price onto an assortment of glass terrariums.

His shop is always a beautiful reprieve from the rest of the mall. It was filled to the brim with every kind of indoor plant a budding botanist might want, as well as supplies for the outdoor kind too. He keeps the room slightly on the warm side to accommodate some of the more picky plants, and somehow the noise of the mall always seems muffled by all the foliage around.   

Robin had not always been so green-fingered. Waverly has vivid memories of her Uncle Curtis trying to show him the ropes on the allotment on countless Spring evenings or weekends. Curtis had been so patient with Robin, repeating actions countless times until the boy understood.

It was only as she got a bit older, only after her father had been dead for years and years, that Waverly really understood this at all.

Ward Earp had not been the only father in their town who drank to try and keep the demons at bay, and David Jett had done his best but had simply not coped after Robin’s mother died.

Curtis, who had known the Jetts as long as anyone had known anyone else in their tiny little neighbourhood, had intervened seemingly without being asked. Probably he knew how the boys at school gave Robin a tough time too. So, he gave Robin something to do in his downtime and ensured he had a little pocket money for his troubles, although Waverly could vividly remember Robin being completely terrible at pruning and digging in the early days.

Now though, things were different and Robin had learned all he needed to know to make a living out of the stuff he could grow. Now, it was almost like he could speak with his plants.

Unlike Waverly and Chrissy Nedley, he had moved into the heart of the city as soon as he could. Purgatory never held anything good for him to hang around for.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he says, setting aside his pricing labels for a moment. “We’re all busy. I’ll try and call in for coffee soon though - we totally need to catch up. Thank you, by the way, for the one you sent round this time last week. It was super sweet of you. Jeremy said you asked him to drop it off for me.”

Robin sounds pleased but understandably a little puzzled by ‘Waverly’s’ gesture, and she has to bite the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from laughing. Poor, poor Jeremy.

“It’s no problem,” she manages to say, “but we definitely need to catch up. Come by one night when we’re closing and we’ll have a drink together.”

“Oh, I’d love that.”

Inspiration strikes Waverly all of a sudden.

“Y’know, maybe we could get a few of our friends together too? Rosita?  _ Jeremy _ , maybe?”

She waits to see if this draws a reaction, but Robin is much better at subtlety than Jeremy. This is not saying much, because Jeremy is uselessly unsubtle, but Robin manages to hold an expression that is close to neutral. After a beat of silence he smiles.

“Definitely. Just text me and tell me when they’re free. I never have much planned.”

“I will, for sure,” Waverly says, thinking that she has double motivation to fix a meet-up with Robin. “But in the meantime, I actually came in here to buy.”

“Oh, of course. What are you after?”

“Not me, Uncle Curtis. He’s after something or other that I’d probably kill if left in charge. Here,” she pulls a scrap of lined paper from her pocket, “he gave me this.”

Robin takes the list and sets about gathering the supplies together, pulling a little plastic spray bottle from a shelf that is flanked by an enormous spider plant, and stacking three little packets of seeds together with an elastic band.

“How much is it?” she asks, absently trying to total up the amount of cash she has on her person.

“For you and Curtis? Zero dollars,” Robin says, trying to hand Waverly the items.

Waverly gives her head an emphatic shake. “No way, he’ll want me to pay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have this shop if he hadn’t taken me in as a kid. And you guys still give me half the vegetables he grows in the summer.  _ And  _ I had that coffee. We’re even Waverly - please take it.”

Waverly eyes him sternly, but takes Curtis’ supplies from him nonetheless. “Free coffee when you come round.  _ And  _ food. Or Gus and Curtis will skin us both.”

Robin smiles and tips her a mock salute. “Scout’s honour.”  
  
  
  
  
  


 

“Well, what else was I supposed to tell him?!”

“The truth, Jeremy!” Waverly and Rosita cry, completely and unexpectedly in unison.

Both Jeremy and Rosita have called in just in advance of the midday rush, and it gives them all a moment to talk before customers start piling in. They have, as ever, occupied their usual spot in the corner of the room, standing right by Waverly’s counter. They would very much be in the way if Waverly did not actively want them around. Countless times, Gus has swatted a towel at them to get them to move to another part of the store, pretending to tell them off for cluttering up the place.  

“You could literally have told him that you were getting a coffee for yourself and you thought he might like one too,” Waverly points out.

“That was your  _ in _ dude,” Rosita adds, sounding almost disappointed. “I can’t believe you passed up such a good opportunity. When are you gonna get another one that good?”

“I could take him another coffee? Or will that look weird after I said it was Waverly’s idea last time?”  

“Nah, weird,” Rosita advises, although it is clear that she is half-joking. Waverly would be inclined to disagree, but she has a better suggestion anyway.

“ _ Well _ , I might have got you another in-road myself,” she says, speaking slowly for the added drama.

A look of pure horror passes over Jeremy’s face. He groans. “Oh God. Waverly what have you done?”

“Yeah Waverly,” Rosita parrots, voice light and teasing. By comparison, she is looking positively gleeful. “ _ What have you done _ ?”

“Well. As you know I had to call into his shop first thing - ”

“Oh you just  _ had _ to yeah?” Jeremy challenges, looking suspicious.

“You know I’ve known him a million years right? And that my uncle has a greenhouse?” Waverly points out, making a point of withholding Jeremy’s coffee until he concedes.

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy says, making a grab for the cup. “Just please tell me what you’ve done. And give me my coffee.”

Taking pity on him, Waverly relents on both counts. “We agreed we were long overdue a catch-up. I suggested that you both come along and he said he was cool with it. Come on Jer, it’s so minimal jeopardy - you can’t say no.”

“Technically I can say n- ”

“Um, excuse me but why have  _ I  _ been roped into this?!” Rosita cries, speaking over Jeremy.

Ignoring Jeremy, Waverly says, “because I thought it would look suspicious if I only invited Jeremy. And I need the moral support if I’m going to watch him trying to interact with Robin all evening. Anyway, don’t pretend you won’t love all the new material you’ll get.”

“Okay you got me there,” Rosita says, making the gesture and completing the reference.

“Well at least you didn’t outright set me up on a one-on-one date,” Jeremy says to Waverly, sounding petulant.

“Oh  _ come on _ . I’m not that mean.”

“Debatable Waverly. I mean, what if I really can’t bring myself to go? You still signed me up.”

“Anyone would think Waves had kicked your puppy, not got you extra time with your crush.”

“Thank you Rosie. It’s  _ very  _ ungrateful. Look, if you’re really feeling too nervous just make up an excuse when the time comes,” Waverly says with a shrug. It was not like she had done Jeremy truly dirty. “Say your mom’s in town or something.”

“My mom?” Jeremy echoes, looking horrified. “Thanks for that even  _ worse _ thought.”

“ _ Waverly _ ,” Rosita scolds, mock-chiding as she spoons some cream off her coffee. “You know the only thing scarier to him than asking out Robin is the idea of an unscheduled visit from his mother.”

“Will you stop mentioning her?” Jeremy says weakly. “One more and she’ll appear in the nearest mirror.”

“She’s not beetlejuice Jeremy,” Waverly says, making herself a pre-lunch rush cup of tea.

“Well you’ve never met her.”

“Okay, so use a different excuse. You still don’t  _ have _ to come. The option is just there if you want it, okay?”

“Dentist appointment?” Rosita suggests, putting an enormous spoonful of whipped cream in her mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” Jeremy says with a sigh.

“See?” Waverly says encouragingly, “that’s good progress. By 2030, you’ll be on your first date with him.”

Rosita snorts. “Between this, and you and Hot Cop, I’ll never have to pay for  _ Netflix  _ again.”

At Waverly’s indignant look, and in a small attempt to get his own back, Jeremy says,

“To be fair to her Waverly, she doesn’t take sides.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’ve enjoyed this so far! I will be back this week for the final instalment of Elevate, and probably another instalment of this, all being well.
> 
> Are you guys sick of me yet???? Probably. 
> 
> If you’re not, come say ‘hi’ on @rositabustiiios on twitter, where I’ve also posted a cutesy picspam/mood board for this fic. If you fancy giving any of my social media a share, including @alissawrites and ko-fi.com/alissawrites then that is always most appreciated. 
> 
> Until next time, take care!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you sooo much for the lovely reception so far to this fic. It's going to be updated pretty rapidly as I want to finish it in time for Christmas, and this is the price I'm (and you're) paying for writing behind schedule. 
> 
> There is really very little to add, so without further ado I hope you enjoy instalment two...

For the first time since the break-in, Mercedes Gardner and her sister Beth call into the store as Waverly is opening up on a Wednesday morning more than two weeks after the robbery.

Wynonna is seated on the couch, and greets the sisters with a grim look and a word of sympathy.

“Still no news, I hear?” she says, indicating that they should both sit down.

With a sigh, Mercedes shakes her head. “Nothing at all, no.”

“Well, Waves and I will get you a drink. It’s the least we can really do since we can’t help in other ways.”

Mercedes and Beth try to protest, but Waverly and Wynonna are used to batting niceties like those away. People here helped each other out, even if that only meant free coffees or allotment supplies.

The Gardners were another old Purgatory family, just like the Jetts and the Earps. They all came from the same old-school tradition of kindness to neighbours; they all did each other little favours. More times than Waverly could count, Beth had comped them watch batteries, or taken links out of new bracelets. The sisters even gave Waverly a friend’s discount whenever she and Wynonna needed a gift for Gus.  

So in the end, the Gardners accept free cups of tea and pass on the little information they have while Wynonna puts teabags into mugs.

“How have the cops been?” Wynonna asks, sounding sceptical from the off. She had never had a great relationship with authority.

“Some of them have actually been really good,” Mercedes says, even as Beth wrinkles her nose. “There’s a uniformed cop, not a detective, and she’s been more helpful than she really has to be. Maybe it’s a kindred spirit thing,” she jokes, pointing at her red hair. Waverly twigs immediately that she must be talking about Nicole.

Wynonna must realise the same, because she flashes a sly look across the shop, but does not interrupt.

“They think one of us did it,” Beth says simply, sounding far less impressed than her sister. She and Waverly were much closer in age, and Waverly does not think she has ever once heard her sound so disparaging.

“To be fair Beth, we don’t have an alibi and lots of people do insurance scams like this,” Mercedes points out reasonably. “We were together on the night of the robbery, there’s so little evidence to go on, and our fingerprints are obviously all over the place. It’d be a perfect cover, except we didn’t do it.”

She says this with a little pleading look at Waverly and Wynonna.

Wynonna scoffs as she carries two mugs across the room and sits down with their guests.

“Don’t you guys worry. We both know that.”

Waverly gives a serious, silent little nod in the Gardners’ direction, to let them know she is of the same opinion. Much like the cafe, their family have had their jewellery shop for years. They make huge amounts of money and wouldn’t need to pull an insurance scam.

More importantly, Mercedes and Beth would never do that to their parents’ memory.

“Which reminds me,” Mercedes goes on, “I think they’re going to start asking people around here for their prints so that they can be ruled out. We said you guys sometimes call by and that we know you wouldn’t do it, so they’re probably going to ask. We wanted to tell you both first, so you know you’re not suspects.”

“Well, they probably have Wynonna’s prints on file anyway,” Waverly jokes, dodging a cushion Wynonna launches at her across the room. Everyone laughs, and she can almost hear the way it sounds like a relief to Beth and Mercedes to have something to smile about for once.

Their conversation segues away from the robbery for a little while, and Waverly is mostly happy to drift about and listen to the others speak. Wynonna knew Mercedes better than she knew Beth, so she has relatively little to add.

Then, like clockwork, Nicole’s customary little greeting sounds from outside and pauses the conversation for a moment.

Wynonna, by now aware that Nicole calls in first thing every morning, continues talking as the officer ducks under the shutters.

Nicole blinks when she sees the shop more occupied than normal, before settling into what appears to be a slightly more professional guise when she notes the Gardners sat on the couch.

“Oh, Ms Gardner,” she says, using this to address first Mercedes and then Beth, “good morning.”

Both sisters greet Nicole warmly enough, and it gives Waverly an odd little glow that they seem to hold Nicole in higher esteem than many of the other cops on the case.

In turn, this realisation gives Waverly pause. She had meant what she said when she told Rosita and Wynonna that it was just nice to appreciate Nicole’s good looks. At a push she had admitted that, okay, maybe she _was_ enjoying the very slight flirtatious undercurrent between them.

She hadn’t thought to consider that she might actually see anything more to it than that. After all, their flirting was so minimal it might easily just be cordial friendliness on Nicole’s part. She had said herself that she didn’t have many friends here, and there was nothing to really confirm that she was into girls too.

Waverly does not know Nicole well enough for it to run any deeper. And yet, feeling oddly pleased for Nicole when the Gardners complimented her work ethic did not really align with simply finding her hot.

Immediately, Waverly falls back on the traditional Earp _modus operandi_ : filing it away at the back of her mind and pretending she will come back to it later.

“I didn’t realise your sister knew the Gardners,” Nicole says when she is close enough to the counter to speak quietly with Waverly. She knows by now that she does not need to order her morning coffee. She has never deviated from a cappuccino first thing in the morning (although her lunch order does sometimes change) so Waverly simply starts making it as soon as she walks in.

“Oh, we both do,” Waverly explains. “They’re from our town - we all grew up together. I swear half of us have shops here.”

“For real?” Nicole asks, raising her eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Well, that’s an exaggeration,” Waverly says, ducking her head. “But there’s them, me and Wynonna, Chrissy with the bookstore, and Robin across the way with the plants. We all went to school together.”

Nicole nods, looking interested and Waverly realises something.

“Have I just given away some extra police-type information?”

This makes Nicole laugh.

“Not exactly, no. But it helps with motives and such,” she says before noting Waverly’s look of horror and adding, “or _lack_ of motives, as I should have said.”

Waverly exhales.

“We’re a close community,” she says. “Here and in Purgatory. The idea that someone would target the Gardners _because_ they’re the Gardners doesn’t really make any sense.”

Nicole tries to bite back a smile, but Waverly sees it play at her cheeks nonetheless.

“Noted,” she says, looking faintly amused. She leans in across the counter with a conspiratorial look on her face. “I have absolutely _not_ said this, okay? But you’re not a suspect Waverly.”

Something in the use of her name gives Waverly a jolt. It is perhaps only the second time Nicole has said it, but it feels odd, jarring even, to hear how they are both more or less on first name terms. It does not help matters that Nicole is still so close, so much so that Waverly can smell the detergent on her clothes.

It smells nice, Waverly decides.

With words not immediately forthcoming, Waverly nods and draws a little cross over her chest.

“Thank you,” she manages to say eventually, “and I swear I won’t say anything.”

Looking relieved, Nicole steps back and Waverly resumes making her coffee before speaking again.

“We were, uh - we were told something about prints though.” Nervously, she glances up at Nicole as she pours the hot milk, worrying that she might have got Mercedes and Beth into trouble. She somehow thinks she can trust Nicole, however, just as Nicole had trusted her a moment ago.

“You were huh?” Nicole says, grinning. The expression widens when Waverly flashes her a little pleading look. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not technically on duty yet. Besides, no one has told the Gardners they can’t tell you that.”

Waverly smiles and waits, but Nicole does not continue talking. Waverly puts a lid on Nicole’s coffee but makes a point of withholding it pending further information.

“ _So_?”

Nicole has her hand outstretched, ready on instinct to accept the drink. She smirks but does eventually relent.

“So yes, I will probably be up later this morning with the kit.”

Happy with these details, Waverly hands the coffee over.

“I _am_ a paying customer you know,” Nicole points out mock-seriously as she takes a tiny sip of her drink. “Do you treat all your clientele this way?”

Waverly watches her face, eyes glued to the way Nicole’s smirk has barely shifted. It blows away every doubt Waverly had tried to pretend she had about these interactions. There was no way Nicole wasn’t right flirting now.

“Definitely not,” Waverly says, returning Nicole’s smile. “Only the special ones get this kind of top notch, not at all rude, service.”  

Expression unwavering, Nicole fiddles with the paper bag currently housing her cinnamon roll breakfast.

“I’m a special customer, huh?” she asks, before pulling a little piece of the sweet bread out of the bag and popping it into her mouth. She eats slowly, but she does not look away from Waverly’s face.

“Absolutely,” Waverly says seriously, fighting not to look away under Nicole’s gaze.

Nicole swallows her food and then smiles.

“I’m going to keep that in mind,” she says with a note of finality, but Waverly senses a caveat nonetheless.

“There’s a ‘but’ here, I can tell.”

“ _But_ I will have to do so far from afar. Because I need to get to work.”

Waverly glances to the clock. The time had passed more quickly than ever. “Already? _Jeez_.”

Nicole flashes a somewhat put-upon expression. “Tell me about it.”

“But I’ll see you later yeah, for the uh…” rather unsubtly she drums her fingers on the counter, trying to communicate that she knows Nicole will come round when it is time for them to have their fingerprints taken.

Her attempt at non-verbal communication makes Nicole laugh deeply. “I’ll do my very best.”

She excuses herself and nods politely at Mercedes and Beth, reminding Waverly for the first time that there was an audience this morning.

Immediately, she busies herself with neatening up the station, even though it was close to sparklingly clean already.

“Well,” she hears Mercedes say, “if I want a good word put in with the cops, I know who to come to.”

“Ignore her,” Wynonna replies, and for a brief moment it is unclear who she is talking to out of Mercedes and Waverly. “She’s in denial about it.”

Waverly flashes a mean glare at her sister, who just shrugs and resumes her conversation with the Gardners.

 

 

 

 

 

 

True to her word, Nicole comes by with a plain-clothes detective halfway through the morning and assists as he questions both Waverly and Wynonna, and then asks to take their fingerprints.

Wynonna looks less than happy about the double presence of law enforcement in their store, but there is nothing she can do or say about it. She wants to help Mercedes and Beth, and even if there is little they can do they can at least narrow the field by ruling themselves out.

Nicole is given the task of taking Waverly’s prints while the detective speaks to Wynonna.

Even through the latex gloves she must wear, her touch is warm as she guides Waverly’s hand towards the little pot of ink and then to the page on which she must make her marks.

They sit close in the cramped back office, and let the music on the little, tinny radio wash over them.

_I want to go where the lights burn low and you’re only mine. I want to give you wild love…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**vi.**

 

Waverly thinks that if she can only bury herself deeply enough into her bedcovers, then she might actually be able to ignore the way Wynonna has inched her door open and is currently hissing her name.

“Waves! _Waves!_ ”

She lets it play on for minutes, even giving a theatrical groan when Wynonna will not shut up.

It is far too dark and early for this even if now, at the very end of November, the sunrises have been occurring increasingly late.

Eventually, Wynonna gives up entirely on calling across the room and instead launches the first missile she can find from her station at Waverly’s doorway.

Happily, it is just a folded-up t-shirt from a pile of clean laundry on the dresser, but it still hits home after Wynonna balls it up and no doubt creases it in the process.

“I know you’re awake and I _will_ pull the blankets off you in a minute. This is important.”

Speaking against the pillows Waverly says, “Wynonna, it’s _Sunday_. It’s first thing in the morning. Nothing is that important.”

“It happened again.”

“What did?”

“The Gardners’ store. It got robbed again.”

Finally, this grabs Waverly’s attention and she surfaces from beneath her duvet. She can pick out Wynonna standing in the unlit corridor, face illuminated blue by the glow of the cell phone in her hand. She looks grim and Waverly feels a thrill of nerves not just for the Gardners but for everyone in the mall complex too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the interests of being nearby for Mercedes and Beth, who will no doubt be at the mall even if they did not generally work on Sundays, Waverly and Wynonna both accompany Gus to the cafe that morning.

Wynonna alternates between texting Mercedes and musing over the identity of the culprit as Gus drives them out of Purgatory.

“Do Mercedes and Beth at least have an alibi this time?” Waverly asks, worrying at her bottom lip. Everyone in town liked the Gardners and no one wanted them to get into any trouble.

“No,” Wynonna says with a sigh. “Since they both still live in their parents’ house, they’re pretty much always together. They didn’t go out last night, or have anyone round.”

“Maybe you two ought to start going round a bit more,” Gus suggests quietly. “Something has to be done.”

Waverly hums her assent. “Hopefully the cops will - ”

She is cut off by Wynonna, who gives a derisive grunt of a laugh.

“Ha. Like those guys will do anything.”

“ _Wynonna_ ,” Gus says, a warning note to her voice.

After years in juvenile detention, Wynonna’s tirades on the law were seldom short or well-contained. Today, however, she seems to be in a different mood entirely. She kicks a little at the shotgun seat so that Waverly, noting the press of Wynonna’s shoe against her back, meets her sister’s eye in the driver’s mirror.

“I guess there are silver linings for _some_ people, though huh?” Wynonna asks, waggling her eyebrows and wearing an altogether far too satisfied smirk.

Completely oblivious to the undertone of the conversation, Gus clicks her tongue. “Like _who_ , Wynonna?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Wynonna says innocently, “just anyone who wants the cops to stick around longer.”

“Well,” Gus says, shaking her head and sounding understandably mystified, “I swear I can’t follow half your conversations these days girls. I mean really, who on earth would want something like that?”

“Who indeed?” Wynonna says enigmatically, still grinning and staring Waverly down from the backseat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waverly has absolutely no expectations of Nicole showing her face at the cafe on a rainy, dismal Sunday afternoon, which makes it all the more jarring when, immediately after the lunchtime service, she appears in the doorway. She is out of uniform in a pair of wonderfully tight black jeans and a burgundy sweater; her hair is down and she looks absolutely beautiful.

Waverly spots her immediately, eyes seemingly drawn to Nicole at the moment of her arrival, and Waverly can all but feel the mood behind the counter shift.

Although they had not let it show to the customers, all three women had been downcast in the cafe today. The idea that someone had their sights set on their friends’ shop did no good for their moods, and it did not help that, this time, people were truly starting to worry for their own livelihoods. Both Jeremy and Rosita had been in earlier, lamenting the difficult decision between keeping stock low as they drifted closer to Christmas, and risking a break-in of their own.

“Well, it looks like they’re targeting the Gardners,” Waverly had pointed out with a grimace, making Rosita a mocha at the same time.

“Are they though?” Jeremy countered, “or are they just looking at the highest value stuff to steal?”

If that were the case, it would put a lot of other people in the danger zone too.

“Can you ask your cop? Please?” Rosita had asked, for once not poking fun at Waverly’s interactions with Nicole. Even so, the question makes Wynonna snort.

“Okay, can we not with the whole ‘my cop’ thing?” Waverly had said quickly, before adding, “but yes, I will ask for advice on Monday.”

“Thank you Waves. Seriously.” This from Jeremy who, in fairness, does look very worried.

“Not in like, a rude way, but don’t you guys have insurance?” Wynonna had asked, making herself useful by heating up a sandwich for Jeremy.

Of course, they all do, but payouts can take forever especially when things look as suspicious as they do now with the Gardners. Rosita had been the one to point this out and Wynonna had conceded.

“Plus,” Jeremy had added, “it’s more that if this keeps happening, and someone keeps getting away with it, it’s more likely to give other chancers ideas.”

Gus had chosen this moment to join in the conversation and had agreed with a deep nod and a heavy sigh.

“We’ve seen that a few times in all our years here,” she concluded with a sigh.

With little more to add, Jeremy and Rosita had peeled away eventually, and between them, Gus, Wynonna, and Waverly had remained sombre.

At Nicole’s appearance, however, this changes.

Waverly can practically feel Wynonna perk up and, when she turns to look, she finds her sister looking far too happy with herself.

With almost impeccable timing (for once), Wynonna excuses herself from the cash register so smoothly it almost looks natural and convincing. It also forces Waverly to step up and take her place just in time to serve Nicole.

Waverly flashes her an odd look, half-question and half-admonishment. Somehow, Wynonna infers Waverly’s question immediately and grins.

“Trust me, I’ll get more enjoyment out of watching you panic on the inside for ten solid minutes, than I will out of depriving you and serving her myself.”

Waverly narrows her eyes and drops her voice to a whisper as Nicole approaches.

“Asshole,” she hisses as Wynonna, before smoothly and seamlessly plastering a smile on her face and twisting her body towards the counter, coming to face Nicole as she arrives. “ _Hi_ , Nicole.”

“Yeah,” Wynonna chimes in unhelpfully. “ _Hi_ officer.”

Understandably puzzled, Nicole flashes an odd look at both sisters.

“Uh, hi. Wynonna,” she says first, nodding. “Waverly.”

She settles her gaze on Waverly then, smiling gently.

“Hot chocolate?” Waverly asks, returning the grin. Nicole nods.

“And one of your banana and chocolate muffins, please.”

Waverly flashes a quick, pointed look at Wynonna who unsubtly rolls her eyes but immediately grabs a plate and a set of tongs for the cake, already assuming that Nicole will be staying.

Waverly, however, holds up a ceramic mug with a look of enquiry and Nicole nods.

“Yes, please.”

“I um, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Waverly says, trying to speak as casually as possible, mixing up the powder for Nicole’s hot chocolate. At the last second she adds, “it’s a pleasant surprise though.”

Immediately, upon catching Wynonna’s expression, she regrets her words. But then Nicole beams and Waverly decides that that one look alone can make all of her sister’s teasing worth it.

“Well it’s really blowing up a storm out there, and it’s nice and cosy here,” she says with a pointed little look that Waverly thinks must surely be deliberate. Almost imperceptibly, her eyes flick to Wynonna, who is very obviously listening to the conversation. “Plus, there’s a book over there which keeps calling to me. I keep trying to read it during lunch, but the time just flies.”

“That’s probably Waverly,” Wynonna says quickly, before Waverly can formulate a response of her own.

Nicole looks bemused. “How so?”

“Well, from what I see she sure does keep you here chatting.” Wynonna sends a sly, sideways glance at Waverly, who feels the way her face immediately glows red.

“ _Ass_ ,” Waverly says, hoping that her verbal delivery will seem like playful, sisterly banter to Nicole, even as her burning glare should tell Wynonna to back off.

“Not at all,” Nicole says, speaking to Wynonna before flitting her gaze between the sisters. “I enjoy the conversation here. Wouldn’t keep coming back if I didn’t.”

“Well,” Waverly says quickly, feeling mortified at the obvious look on Wynonna’s face, and the even more obvious blush on her own cheeks. “Don’t let us keep you from your book.”

In her embarrassment, Waverly finds that her words leave her mouth sounding more clipped than usual, almost of their own volition. The slight sharpness to her tone seems to hit Nicole, whose face shifts and settles into something more neutral than before.

“It’s no problem, really,” she says, but moves to pay quickly and collect her things.

She settles at her usual table by the little library, choosing a seat that leaves Waverly with a wonderful view of her side profile.

Aiming a kick at Wynonna for the second time in recent weeks, Waverly hisses, “ _great_ , now look what you made me do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waverly gives it an appropriate amount of time after Nicole finishes eating to collect her plate.

She does not want to seem too overzealous after all, and she especially does not want to give Wynonna more ammunition.

“Oh, I’d have brought it up to the counter,” Nicole says, eyes surprised as she glances over the top of her book.

“It’s fine,” Waverly says, smiling and trying to undo some of the damage from earlier. Nicole does not seem at all put out, but Waverly wants to be safe all the same. “It’s literally my job.”

Nicole shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to her. She murmurs something about customers being conscientious and then adds, “I’ll be up to buy something else in a bit.”

She indicates at her mug, showing only the dregs of her hot chocolate left.

“I don’t want to be one of those,” Nicole adds with a sheepish smile and tilts the book in her hand, which she has now kept open with her pointer finger between the correct pages.

“Don’t tell my aunt I said this, but it’s fine,” Waverly says quietly, glancing about for Gus. Normally, the people who nurse one small drink for hours annoy Waverly, but it appears she has a double standard that she was not previously aware of.

 _Will make exceptions for beautiful women,_ apparently.

“Really, I’ll be up in a bit,” Nicole insists.

“Well, only when you’re ready. Or give me a shout and I’ll bring something over.”

Nicole’s eyes do a quick sweep of the room. The vast majority of tables are occupied, which always gives Waverly a little thrill of pride.

“No way,” Nicole says seriously, shaking her head. “You’re busy.”

“Yeah, but there’s three of us today.”

“To which I ask: should you even be working?” Nicole adds, a little playful glimmer in her eye. “I’m pretty sure you haven’t had a day off since I met you.”

Waverly casts her mind back over the past few weeks, trying to think. With a little jolt, she realises that Nicole is right.

“Well shit. I guess not. Maybe I should get on that.”

Still looking slightly mischievous, Nicole quirks an eyebrow.

“I think maybe you should, yeah,” she says, before growing soft and serious. “You don’t want to burn out. I don’t want you to either, for that matter.”

“Really?” Waverly says, brow lifting in surprise.

“Well of course not,” Nicole says, voice easy and light. “I’d miss our chats. And who knows how long the case will go on, or how long this book will keep me busy.”

Still shocked at Nicole’s candour, Waverly suddenly remembers her promise to Rosita and Jeremy. She needs to talk business with Nicole.

“Yeah, about that,” Waverly says, pulling a face. “About the case, I mean.”

Nicole’s forehead crinkles in concern. “What is it?”

“I guess you haven’t heard if you’re off duty. There was another break-in.”

Nicole’s concern blends easily into a look of outright shock. “ _Really_? The Gardners again?”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Waverly says, looking grim. “And people around here are starting to panic. I don’t suppose you have any words of wisdom I can pass on? I wouldn’t normally bother you, especially while you’re not working, but Rosita asked and I know Jeremy’s worried, and - ”

“Waverly, it’s fine. People are bound to be concerned. Sure, there’s a few tips and safety strategies I know about. When you have a break I’d be more than happy to pass them on.”

Waverly exhales, reassured as she basks in Nicole’s steady, confident gaze. “Thank you. I really appreciate it Nicole. You’re a star.”

“It’s not a problem. _Really_.” The playful look is back on Nicole’s face. “And thank you. I’m doing my best.”

Waverly does not miss it for a second, the tone Nicole uses to say this. She does not think Nicole is talking about her work as a police officer this time, either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing?” Waverly asks Wynonna as she returns to the counter with Nicole’s empty plate.

She appears to be doodling on a napkin, which is not at all like Wynonna.

“Hangman,” Wynonna mumbles absently, putting a final flourish onto the tissue. “Wanna play?”

But somehow, Waverly can see exactly where this is heading.

“No.”

“After all the effort I went to? _Rude_ ,” Wynonna says, and proceeds to fill in the gaps to her word for Waverly anyway, before adding a little stick woman to her pre-drawn scaffold. She gives the woman long hair and draws an arrow indicating that it is Waverly herself.

“Because that’s not distressing,” Waverly says, regarding the drawing with disdain.

Wynonna’s chosen word for Waverly to guess had been _‘whipped’_ and Waverly watches as her sister proceeds to draw another arrow between that and the little hangman Waverly.

Immediately, Waverly snatches the napkin and screws it up, tossing it straight into the trash.

Wynonna gives a loud cry of protest. “Hey! My masterpiece!”

“Seriously Wyn, cut it out now,” Waverly says, pitching her voice just so to let her sister know that she has nearly had enough.

Because really, _whipped_ was way, way off base.

She does not even have a proper crush on Nicole.

She can’t possibly have a crush.

Her eyes find Nicole across the room and their gazes meet, Nicole’s attention having been drawn by Wynonna’s shout.

Nicole smiles at Waverly, whose heart swoops immediately.

 _Oh shit_ , she thinks to herself, _I totally have a crush_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(During an afternoon lull, Gus all but ushers Waverly and Wynonna out from behind the counter and orders them to take a break. Waverly dawdles until Wynonna is out the door, and then moves to stand by Nicole’s table, feeling almost too shy to interrupt her reading. She has brought gifts with her; two mugs and two plates. More hot chocolate for Nicole and a tea for Waverly, plus one vegan brownie and a blueberry scone.

“Don’t let me stop you if you’re at a good bit,” she says, spellbound by the way Nicole looks when she stares up through her lashes to meet Waverly’s eye.

“It’s fine,” Nicole says, snapping the book shut without hesitation. “I promised you some advice.”

“That’s why I brought these,” Waverly says, glancing down at the laden tray clutched in her hands.  

“I can pay you,” Nicole says, diving for her bag.

She freezes, however, at Waverly’s stern tone when she speaks again. “Absolutely not. A favour for a favour.”

Nicole pauses, looking torn. “Are you - ”

“I’m very sure,” Waverly says, finally daring to sit down across the table from Nicole.

After that, the time flies by around them, because after Nicole has finished passing on a few pearls of security wisdom, the conversation swerves and segues into other avenues. They talk about their jobs, about Nicole moving away from home in order to work (and Waverly notices how Nicole neatly avoids speaking too much about her family), about television shows, and the Spotify playlists that Waverly chooses for the store. For a solid hour after her break ends, Waverly forgets that technically she should be working.

This time, however, Wynonna says nothing when Waverly finally returns to work. She has always enjoyed winding Waverly up, but Wynonna would be the first to land a punch on any insensitive soul who ever _actually_ upset her baby sister.)

 

 

 

* * *

  

 

 

**vii.**

 

“All I’m saying,” Rosita begins as she and Waverly trek through the dimly lit corridor, “is that - ”

“Rosie, don’t take this the wrong way,” Waverly interjects, “but I don’t care.”

“ _Oh_ , cut me down why don’t you?” Rosita says, laughing before she can pretend to be mad. It is clear that Waverly is joking, but deep down she has started to reach the end of her tether when it came down to everyone’s opinions on Nicole.

“I’ve had it all weekend from Wynonna.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosita says, voice genuine. “But I really am just trying to say that she could read that damn book in any other situation. She’s finding excuses to come into the store, so even if you’re going to die on this hill that you don’t _like_ like her, you still think she’s hot and it’s pretty obvious the feeling is mutual. Just go for it.”

Waverly snorts. “Just go for what? She comes in, she reads, we talk a bit. Maybe it _is_ about the books. You don’t know.”

“Dude. She could buy the book. It’s like, five dollars forty on Kindle right now.”

“That’s an oddly specific thing for you to know.”

“So? I looked it up to prove a point. You _know_ I love proving a point.”

Waverly gives her a playful shove. “Yeah, you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

They make it to their destination and find that, like most of the other establishments, the store’s shutters are already half-open. It is painfully early to do any shopping, but now that December has officially reared its festive head, there will be precious little time to nip out for essentials.

Or, in Rosita’s case, non-essentials. ( _‘The bath salts here are more authentic, and I’m going to_ need _the lavender now it’s Christmas_ ’.)

They shout into the mostly unlit store, but nobody calls out in return.

Figuring that they have a decent enough working relationship with the proprietor, Waverly and Rosita duck inside without invitation. It smells earthy in the shop, the air feeling as though it has actually grown thicker with a heady perfume of supposedly natural scents.

Rosita, moving with familiarity across the tiny, cluttered store space, presses the issue.

“Come on Waves. How long has she even been coming into the shop now. Like? A month?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Waverly says, only realising this for herself as she confirms it for her friend. “So?”

“So she’s not just coming back for the cappuccinos. I’m telling you. You’re missing out big time by denying it. You’re almost as bad as Jeremy.”

Waverly feigns a gasp and dashes a dramatic hand to her heart.

“Oh you did _not_.”

Rosita laughs.

“Okay. That was a low blow, I’ll give you that. But you do know you could ask her out, right?” she points out, pretending to scan the items for sale. “That’s absolutely a thing you could do.”

“Who says I even want to ask her out?” Waverly retorts with a defensive huff.

“Your face dude,” Rosita says with a derisive snort. “Like, your whole entire faces says it.”

“She’s right you know,” Kate says solemnly, materialising from a back room of the store and making them both jump. “The cards told me. They’d tell you too, if you ever let me do a reading.”

Waverly fixes her eyes on a rack of incense cones, feigning great interest in the scents on offer.

“Oh great, we’re all chiming in on my love life now . Even the damn tarot cards. _Fantastic.”_

Rosita casts an amused, appraising look over at Kate. As far as Waverly knew, the two of them got on well. Waverly, on the other hand, liked Kate enough but also found her uncanny knack for knowing things via the medium of Tarot a little creepy.

She was just a little too spot on sometimes for it to be entirely comfortable.

But Rosita, with her keen interest in astrology, found a kindred spirit in Kate most of the time.

“How do you even know about that, you’re never in cafe?” Rosita asks, sounding genuine enough that Waverly believes that she is not the culprit here. Most likely, Waverly suspects, Kate will say it is -

“The cards,” Kate repeats, fiddling with the beads of a scarf that she has artfully turned into a trendy bandana.

“Okay,” Waverly says, watching as Rosita idly thumbs at a stack of 2019 lunar calendars. “There’s no way they gave you all that. You’ve even _told_ me that Tarot doesn’t work like that.”

A knowing little smile plays at Kate’s lips, shattering the dreamy, mystical air she likes to put on to pull in customers. Sometimes, she leaves it firmly in place around some of the store owners, but drops it entirely around people she knows better, such as Rosita (and therefore Waverly by extension).

“I do _work_ here you know,” she points out. “I pass by the other stores and can handle conjecture.”

“Plus Jeremy talks,” Rosita says, putting two and two together all of a sudden with a literal snap of her fingers. On a whim, she picks up one of the little calendars and takes it to the counter with her lavender bath salts and a few little pouches of dried herbs.

“Plus, Jeremy talks,” Kate agrees, now smiling widely and evidently trying not to laugh. She taps the price of each item into her old-fashioned register, saving the little price tags for her inventory count. She bags everything up into a patterned paper bag and wildly undercharges Rosita for what she buys.

“I’m going to murder him,” Waverly decides, gritting her teeth.

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t told anyone else,” Kate says. “But readings kind of have that effect on people. It’s an intimate experience and clients forget themselves.”

Rosita snorts. “I didn’t know Jeremy got _readings_.”

“Are you disparaging my craft?” Kate teases, quirking a neatly defined eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rosita says smartly, “but I never pegged Jeremy as a repeat customer.”

Waverly, however, has a sneaking suspicion about Jeremy now.

“Was it a _love_ reading?” Waverly asks, putting emphasis on the word ‘love’ - _lurve_ \- and speaking the way one might when teasing another.

“You know I absolutely can’t give away that kind of information,” Kate says, even as the left corner of her lip twitches slightly and reveals all. Waverly half suspects that it was deliberate, because Kate can be frustratingly secretive when she wants to be.

“Waverly,” Rosita says seriously as they turn to leave a moment later, “I need to make it clear right now that if you ever, ever come here for a love reading about Hot Cop, then _that_ is when I am staging the intervention.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you need a hand?”

Waverly looks over from her precarious perch, just about balanced atop a wonky stool at the perimeter of the store. She suspects that one of the legs is shorter than the others.

Even as she turns slightly, the old stool wobbles so hard that her heart shoots into her mouth.

Nicole darts forward, looking concerned even as Waverly rights herself with relative ease.

With a tiny laugh, Nicole says, “okay. I think that means you definitely need a hand.”

She comes to stand beside Waverly and, frustratingly, is not much shorter than her, even with the little, lopsided stool on Waverly’s side.

“Oh, it’s fine. I can get your coffee,” Waverly insists, already trying to work out how to get back to the ground with as much dignity as possible. “I missed you this morning.”

When Nicole had not turned up earlier that morning, Waverly had assumed she had been posted to another job. She had even texted Rosita and Kate to tell them that all their superstitious chatter about Waverly’s love life had jinxed it.

Perhaps, however, it had a worked a charm instead as, for the second day in a row, Nicole once again arrives in her civvies.

“Don’t be silly, let me help you first. And yeah, sorry, it’s my day off again today. They had me doing overtime on Saturday, but I wasn’t on duty here. I’m not really doing continuous shift work at the moment because half the staff are off with stomach flu, so that’s why I’m getting actual proper days off like this just whenever they can give them to me.”

“Well, maybe that’s my good fortune,” Waverly says, before grimacing. “If you can say that about someone else’s stomach flu.”

“Depends if you believe in karma or not,” Nicole replies wryly taking in the sight of the long strand of fluffy, silver tinsel that Waverly had been trying to hang at the top of the room.

“Well I can’t afford to get the stomach flu so that’s that. I’m treating it like a vampire: it’s not invited in. It’s Christmas season now and it gets far too busy.”

In direct opposition to Waverly’s words, however, there is no one else in the store right now, which accounted for why she had decided to make a start on the trimmings.

“Well you’re getting in the spirit nice and early with your decorations,” Nicole says conversationally as she takes one end of the tinsel.

“Might as well,” Waverly concludes brightly. She loves the festive season and if the decorations are going to be put up, she might as well have a month to admire her efforts.

“Everywhere looks lovely,” Nicole agrees, standing on her tiptoes to line up the tinsel. Waverly had preemptively stuck a cluster of pieces of tape up her arm, and she offers one to Nicole.

“Is it your first Christmas here?” she asks conversationally and Nicole hums and takes a sliver of tape.

“It is. Not that I have plans, but I’m still excited.”

“Will you work?” Waverly asks.

“Mm, probably. At least for part of the day. There are officers with families - youngs kids - unlike me. And Christmas pay is good.”

“Still,” Waverly counters, chancing a sideways glance at Nicole who bites her lip and visibly concentrates on hanging the tinsel evenly, “you should take some time for you, too.”

This draws Nicole’s attention sharply to Waverly, who almost feels unstable on the stool again as she meets Nicole’s eye.

“Hypocritical, much?”

Waverly laughs, allowing herself to come off as entirely self-deprecating.

“Okay wise guy, you know what? Yes it is.”

Nicole laughs too and they soak up the feeling for a moment as they work together to hang up the last of the tinsel. Waverly does not have a lot, having decided that too much of the stuff is not quite minimalistic enough as to be in keeping with her overall Christmas vision.

“There,” Nicole says appreciatively, stepping back a few paces. “It looks perfect.”

Deciding it is finally time to get off the rickety footstool, Waverly silently concludes that it probably does look perfect, even if she is not yet at the correct angle to see it.

Nicole offers a hand to help her safely back down to _terra firma_ , and Waverly cannot help but think that Nicole’s skin is as warm and soft as she had remembered from the last time.

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” Waverly says once she is able to assess that the tinsel is not wonky or out of place. “But it’s a very good one.”

Nicole chuckles, and then gives her affirmative when Waverly asks if she wants a cappuccino. She drops her bag off at what Waverly has come to think of as Nicole’s spot; a cosy armchair by the bookshelf.

Nicole fishes the book she is reading out from where she stored it the afternoon before, leaving it ready on the table as Waverly sets about getting her coffee ready.

She joins Waverly at the counter a moment later, humming along softly to the music drifting lightly out of the speakers dotted around the store.

“How long is your Christmas playlist?” she asks, voice lilting as she teases slightly.

“Long enough,” Waverly says quickly, grinning over as she pours coffee into a large cup. “You’ll make it through to the afternoon without many repeats.”

“Good,” Nicole says, smiling impishly.

“ _Grinch_ ,” Waverly corrects, biting her tongue slightly, and Nicole immediately affects a look of deep offence.

“Hey! I like Christmas, but there’s only so many times I can hear the same playlist. It’s only the first week of December.”

Waverly concedes with a dip of her head. “Fair point. I’ll take mercy on you if it gets too repetitive.”

“Appreciated,” Nicole says, still grinning and taking her coffee. “Also, I think you’re forgetting something.”

Waverly, who had made to turn away and clear up, pauses and Nicole holds out her card accordingly.

“Well I trust you not to run,” she jokes with an easy shrug. “And I’m assuming you’ll want to read for a while.”

There had been no hidden agenda for Waverly in this assumption, only that she had grown accustomed to Nicole, always so easygoing and affable, taking whatever time she could to drink her coffee and read her way through the library. Somehow, that had only been more of a draw for Waverly, that Nicole liked to read and simply sit quietly and enjoy the ambiance of a place. That Waverly is more than happy for Nicole to occupy an armchair here for hours is almost, _almost_ by-the-by at this point.

Her presence in the shop was simply becoming the norm, and the idea that Waverly could look at Nicole’s pretty face and feel her heart do that familiar, pleasant little flutter was an added bonus.

At Waverly’s words, however, Nicole’s expression shifts. She grows soft and quiet, smiling gently and searching Waverly’s face with those warm, expressive eyes.

“You don’t mind do you? That I’m around so much?” she asks, wrapping both hands around her mug. “I’d rather not spend my days off inside on my own, it just seems such a waste. And I like it here, you’ve really made it into such a cosy place. Plus I uh, I also like seeing you, and speaking to you.”

With Nicole’s declaration, they both feel the energy around them shift. There can surely be no room left for any doubt, Waverly decides, as Nicole keeps her eyes fixed boldly on Waverly’s.

“I _definitely_ don’t mind. And I like seeing you too. _Really_ like it, in fact,” Waverly says, putting as much emphasis into her words as she dares. Her hearts starts banging in her chest, and she cannot quite tell whether it is out of nerves or anticipation. She hardly expects that anything will happen right here, right now, but it is nice to know that maybe, _just maybe_ , she is not alone in getting swept up in something that started as a brief spark of attraction, only to shift to flirtation and then to...what? Waverly supposes it _is_ a crush, if she is being honest with herself.

(But that doesn’t mean she has to be honest with Rosita or Wynonna or Jeremy just yet.)

She doesn’t really know Nicole yet, not as much as she’d like, but she is starting to remember things about her now (about the food she likes and the genres of books she picks first, about the music she prefers and the work she does). More so than that, Waverly _wants_ to know more. It is like there is an electric current between them, like they would get on if only they were given the chance. Or, more aptly, if they gave themselves the chance.

This, Waverly understands suddenly, is down to the two of them. Perhaps, then, Rosita was right. Perhaps Nicole really _was_ engineering excuses to come by. Perhaps now it was time for Waverly to be entirely honest with herself.

After all, Nicole makes her laugh every time that the two of them are in the shop together, and Waverly understands that she makes Nicole laugh too. Their conversations are easy and never stilted, and their silences never feel weighty or wrong.

And they seem to understand each other too. At least, Nicole looks as though she understands what Waverly means when she reassures Nicole that her presence in the store is very much encouraged.

It makes Waverly hopeful that maybe Nicole will keep stopping by even once the Gardner case is closed. She does not think she wants the visits to end.

Nicole smiles, still looking soft and unwound and _open_.

“I’m glad,” she says quietly, finally lifting her coffee and taking a grateful sip.

“Me too,” Waverly replies, voice matching Nicole’s unintentionally.

If Waverly could extend this moment indefinitely, she would, but of course that is not the way of things. This is her store, and there are other customers to serve besides Nicole, even if Waverly almost wishes they could have the place to themselves all morning - profit margins be damned.

A pair of suited businessmen call in for their own regular orders, and Nicole immediately drifts to her seat and immerses herself in her book. It is one of this year’s releases, one that came to the mall in hardback form, and very much forlorn and water-damaged when its container had not fared so well under an onslaught of heavy rain. Chrissy had swapped it for a chocolate brownie and Waverly had had her eye on it for months, but had found no real time to sit and read. It seemed to be some kind of historical fiction, which Waverly had not necessarily assumed for Nicole, with a rather alluring purple and metallic cover, decorated with a lovely floral pattern.

When the men take their coffees to go, as normal, Waverly leaves Nicole to her reading and ducks into the back room to rummage through her box of Christmas decorations. She has an array of rustic, handmade paper chains (that she really did make herself as a teenager) and a vast amount of fairy lights to suspend from the ceiling and, in the case of the lights, around the pillars. There is a tree too, but she thinks it might be more than a little ambitious to try and put that up before lunchtime.

In theory, Wynonna had been booked in to help her decorate today, but Mercedes had called in a favour in the shop downstairs.

With the vast majority of people beginning their Christmas shopping from now, the Gardner sisters had endeavoured to keep the shop open. As soon as the police had finished sweeping the scene, Mercedes had been adamant that they were going to continue opening as normal. Beth, however, had seemed tense and unhappy and Mercedes had all but bullied her little sister into taking a couple of days off.

The plan, then, was for Wynonna to step in with Mercedes for a day or perhaps two, and for Waverly to call Gus if things were not manageable at the cafe. One way or another, they would work things out.

“I can’t believe you’re going to break your ‘no front of house rule’ for them and not me,” Waverly had grumbled at the time, but Wynonna had known that she was joking. Of course no one would really begrudge the Gardners asking for a little help while things were tough. Their younger brother would be home from college very soon and would no doubt be drafted in to help in the shop.

(Besides, Wynonna was far more likely to be on her best, most customer service-y behaviour in someone else’s shop anyway.)

Waverly hefts her decorations out into the main shop area, content to see that no one else has yet turned up to make an order.

It will be vastly easier to decorate with only Nicole around, and Waverly has no real desire to stay after hours or get up even earlier than normal, even if it is for something as fun as Christmas trimmings.

She resumes her place on her worryingly unstable footstooll, and the precariousness of the whole thing catches Nicole’s eye immediately.

“Not to be a backseat driver but you really need a stepladder for that,” she remarks, a note of genuine concern present in her voice as she watches Waverly out of the corner of her eye.

“I do,” Waverly agrees, “but we forgot to ask our uncle for one out of the barn, and I kind of want to get this done today.”

“Is it really that country out in Purgatory?” Nicole asks at mention of a barn, standing up to try and help Waverly in whatever way she can.

“Oh yeah, it’s a good few hours out. Proper Wyatt Earp territory,” Waverly explains, voice distorting in her throat as she stretches up to reach the ceiling. Deliberately, she neglects to mention her ties to the old lawkeeper. She is well aware that, to a relative stranger, it might sound impressive but to her it just carries the connotations of all the whispers behind the family’s back both before and after her father died.

“I hadn’t realised. I miss having places to go hiking or climbing. Is it that sort of a place?” Nicole asks, sounding genuinely interested. She picks up the trail of the paper chains so that she can feed them up to Waverly. Immediately, it makes the balancing act a little easier.

“It is. You should check it out if that’s your thing. And if you ever need a tour guide then you know you’ve got someone you can ask,” Waverly says, gesturing at herself. “Not that I do a lot of hiking, and I have never once been climbing, but I can at least point you in the right direction.”

“If you’re ever not working, you mean?” Nicole says, visibly biting her cheek.

“ _Hey_! I was being nice!”

“I know, and I really do appreciate it, thank you. I might just take you up on your offer when the weather improves.”

Nicole says this unassumingly, as though she has not realised what this implies; that she will still be a fixture in Waverly’s life when the season changes.

Trying not to sound too overkeen, Waverly says, “you should.”

“There are buses, yeah?”

“Yeah, but we drive and I’m sure my uncle would insist he gave me one of the trucks for the day. They’re pretty old school when it comes to traditional hospitality. You’ll have to fight off an invitation to come to dinner.”

“So you really commute all that way every day huh?”

“Yeah,” Waverly says, voice knowing as she interprets Nicole’s unspoken assertion. “We should probably move. I reckon it would be doable for Wynonna and I if we took a place together and I _know_ Wynonna would move away in a heartbeat. It’s me that’s holding her back.”

“Well, it’s not always easy, leaving home. Not for some people,” Nicole replies, her tone kind and understanding. “I knew I was more than ready, and when you’re ready you’ll know too.”

“Thanks,” Waverly says, chancing a small smile down at Nicole and hoping she does not lose her balance as a result. “And also for this. You don’t have to, you know. You’re a paying customer, you’re not supposed to help us decorate the place.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I’m hardly going to sit there and watch you break your neck, am I? You know what would be _really_ smart though?”

“What?”

“If you switched with me and let me pin those up. I think I have the height advantage on this one.”

“Oh,” Waverly pauses and looks back to Nicole. She hardly wants to impose but she has to admit it would be far more sensible to switch roles. “You really wouldn’t mind? And you won’t sue me if you have an accident at my place of work?”

Nicole laughs. “No lawsuits I promise. Come on, switch places. We’ll get this done in no time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

With the stool, Nicole can reach the ceiling without even stretching and together they get both the lights and the chains put up with almost no effort at all.

They laugh and chatter as they work, and Nicole even drags out the modest, artificial tree for Waverly while she hangs up credible-looking plastic sprigs of holly and mistletoe in the corners.

“Where do you want this?” Nicole asks, oblivious to Waverly’s task as she sets the tree on its base for a moment, swiping a stray lock of loose hair out of her face. She turns to face Waverly just in time to realise where they are both standing - right beneath the fake white berries of some plastic mistletoe.

They both realise what this means, dancing awkwardly around the subject until, perhaps mercifully, a small group of elderly women walk in, shattering the ambiance immediately.

Waverly is almost relieved to have had the weight of the moment reduced, unsure as to whether things might have become awkward or whether Nicole might have deftly made a joke and settled the mood between them.

Certainly, Waverly would not have been so bold as to kiss Nicole. But the idea that she could have, that she almost wanted to, gives rise to the idea that maybe, _just maybe_ , Nicole might have wanted to do the very same thing.

Waverly flashes an apologetic look and heads to the counter. The women are yet more regulars, and have a once-weekly morning coffee engagement that usually seems to coincide with a debate about the latest book they are all reading. Almost a book club, Waverly had decided a while ago, but not quite.

They usually stay long and order more than once, so Waverly cannot really complain when they turn up, as ever, at ten thirty on the dot. All the same, she will miss having the place to herself with Nicole.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and Nicole shakes her head.

“Don’t be silly, it’s your job. Shall I make a start, or I will I be depriving you?”

“You’ve done more than enough, go back to your book.”

With her eyes full of mischief, Nicole replies, “that implies that I don’t finish what I’ve started. No way am I doing half a job.”

Waverly laughs as she makes her way across the floor.

“Wow. Love that fire. Sure, make a start then. I’ll help if I can.”

Nicole delves into the bag full of decorations and begins carefully untangling yet more fairy lights.

By the time the large group of women have been seated and served (a perk for select regular customers, or those who call in when it is quiet), Nicole has already moved swiftly onto baubles and ornaments.

Waverly comes and stands close as Nicole kneels on the floor and sorts through the decorations, setting a hot chocolate nearby but not so close as to be knocked over.

“For you. For once again helping me on your day off.”

Nicole pulls a face. “You don’t have to do that; I’m happy to pay. And I’ve really enjoyed helping, too.”

“It’s been fun, hasn’t it?” Waverly agrees and Nicole nods earnestly.

They finish up the tree together, just in time for footfall to pick up before lunchtime. Waverly has not known such a quiet morning in weeks and she can only thank her lucky stars that it fell at a time when Nicole was around to spend it with her.

Perhaps she should worry about a lack of takings, but most of the time the shop does just fine (more than fine, in fact) and she cannot really bring herself to worry about anything when she looks across the shop floor and sees Nicole tucked comfortably into her armchair, reading her book as her eyes reflect the twinkling Christmas lights.

She looks beautiful, and Waverly knows then that she is falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the lines Wynonna says when Nicole calls into the cafe on Sunday after the second robbery may or may not be a personal reference of sorts [insert eyes emoji]. 
> 
> The book Nicole reads is called 'The Wicked Cometh' and it is an LGBT historical romance/mystery written by an LGBT author (read: support ur local/non-local LGBT writers!) 
> 
> I will likely finish this fic up on Christmas Eve (my time, which is UK time) which is now only a few sleeps away. In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this middle chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit later than intended, here is the final chapter of this fic!!
> 
> Thank you all to everyone who has read this fic, and especially for all the kind comments.
> 
> There's little to say about this chapter except that it's Hallmark level cheesy and gross. If that's not your thing run and hide now.

**viii.**

 

_Hi Robin, how does this Friday sound for coffee with me, Rosita, and Jeremy? We can relax before the first weekend rush of the month. And before late opening starts_.

 

_Hey Waves. That sounds great, I’m definitely free. Should I just come by after I close the shop?_

 

_That’s fine! I’ll just be cleaning up and shutting the cafe, but you guys can take the couch and I’ll join you once we’re closed. We only stay open half an hour later to catch the exodus anyway. It’s good business :)_

 

_I can imagine! Okay, well I’ll come by then. I have something for Curtis anyway. Can’t wait to see you guys!!_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“You see?!” Rosita trills, sounding triumphant as she brandishes Waverly’s phone. “ _You see?!_ He’s excited to see all of us. That includes you! That’s some good news for this freezing cold Wednesday!”

She turns to Jeremy and finishes her sentence by shoving a spoonful of bread into her mouth, fished out of her soup and piping hot.

Still, Jeremy does not seem convinced about this night with Robin. Waverly clocks the look on his face.

“Well, it’s happening either way,” she says smartly, answering Jeremy’s unspoken comment. “He’s my friend and we’re long overdue a catch-up. Whether you come or not is up to you, but you’re an idiot if you don’t.”

“Total idiot,” Rosita concurs, having swallowed her bread.

“You don’t need to be that emphatic about it,” Jeremy points out reasonably, blowing on his soup. “But you’re right about the weather at least.”

Neither Waverly nor Rosita disagrees here. The first snowfall has finally arrived, bringing all the associated traffic delays and commuter grumblings with it. They are used to the snow out here, but it doesn’t mean that it does not bring some complications. Waverly always carries some minor worry that it will really come down while she and Wynonna are at work, leaving them stranded. It has only happened twice, however, and Rosita had put the sisters up in her apartment both times.

“Seriously though,” Rosita says, “what’s stopping you on Friday?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeremy says with a large huff that seems to shake his shoulders. “It’s just...me, isn’t it? I really want him to like me and I’m going to get all tongue-tied and I’ll say something stupid. Or I won’t say anything at all. I know what I’m like when I get like this, and you guys haven’t really seen it yet. I’m gonna mess it all up.”

“Look,” Rosita says, wiping delicately at her mouth with a napkin before setting her soup spoon into her empty bowl. “If it’s really giving you that much anxiety, then you can bail. I know we can be assholes sometimes but c’mon man, you’re our friend. We won’t think any the worse of you if you really need to tap out.”

Jeremy smiles, looking grateful. “Thanks. It’s just, every time I think about bailing I get anxious because then I start thinking how I’ll miss my only shot to get to know him better.”

“But you’re anxious when you think of going too?” Waverly supplies for him.

“Exactly,” Jeremy says, looking so forlorn that even Wynonna, who has now been relieved from duty at the Gardners’ store, does not give him crap when she briefly passes by from the back room.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, stacking an enormous pile of clean crockery beneath the counter, “I barely know what this is about, and even I say you should go.”

“How so?” Jeremy asks, eyeing Wynonna suspiciously. She never normally offers something into a conversation with Jeremy without a punchline coming at his expense eventually.

“Because you’re gonna be anxious either way. So you’re fucked on that front, and you might as well get something out of it.”

“Much as it pains me, I agree,” Waverly says, dodging the pretend punch Wynonna throws at her for the comment. “If you go home you know that’s that. If you stay, any number of good things could happen.”

Jeremy nods, looking to Rosita for her final say to complete his sampling of the group’s opinions.

“You know where I stand,” Rosie says, shrugging.

“Okay fine,” Jeremy decides. “Unless I really feel awful, I’ll come. But you guys better help me out.”

“I’ll help you out by not coming,” Wynonna says, immediately disappearing for more supplies. They have had an exceptionally busy lunch service and she had been at the counter, helping Waverly to cope with the orders.

“That is quite literally the nicest thing she has ever done for me,” Jeremy says solemnly, watching Wynonna’s retreating back.

“I didn’t even know she was done helping out downstairs,” Rosita says, smoothly changing the subject and giving Jeremy a welcome reprieve from all talk of his love life. They might all enjoy winding him up, but no one would ever really cross a line with anyone else.

“Yeah, Tucker’s back now,” Waverly says with a sigh.

“Little shit,” Wynonna adds as she restocks the display case with muffins, as well as some suitably festive gingerbread and sugar cookies. (Waverly had decorated the latter to look like reindeer and was rather proud of them. They seemed to be popular too, and had been restocked twice already today.)  

She and Wynonna had never liked Tucker Gardner, and they were not alone in their opinions. He was younger than Waverly, a few grades below her in school, and he had always been distant, petulant, and more than a little bit creepy.

Waverly often felt bad, because kids had been as mean to him as they had been to Robin. Unlike Robin, however, Tucker was not remotely kind or likeable. He did not always deserve all of the crap he got, but he also won very little sympathy from others because he had an undeniable nasty streak that he rarely bothered to conceal.

Instead he relied upon his parents’ money and reputation to get him out of trouble.

Plus, it was obvious he had a thing for Waverly. He made no secret of this either, and he had been visiting the coffee shop regularly since his return from college. Unlike the store’s other habitual visitor, however, Waverly was not so keen on Tucker’s continued presence at her place of work.

Indeed, it was far more preferable to Waverly that Nicole had been back at work after her Monday morning spent decorating the shop. This meant that she had resumed her regular routine of buying breakfast and lunch, just as Waverly has become accustomed to.

In actual fact, Nicole is only sporadically posted at the Gardners’ store now, because with city resources stretched they cannot reasonably keep a cop standing around as much as Nicole has been forced to do.

Even so, Nicole must be working close by, because she is still able to call into the cafe twice per day.

“Should we be making ourselves scarce?” Jeremy asks out of nowhere, referring to Nicole’s impending visit and, in the process, causing Waverly to question whether he can read minds.

“Don’t _you_ start,” Waverly warns, rolling her eyes. She has laid off trying to deny things quite so vehemently, but she is still unwilling to give too much ground just yet. She is pretty into Nicole, and the longer she thinks on it the more she wonders whether she should try and instigate some kind of meet-up outside of the shop.

“Are you ever going to give her a break?” Rosita chimes in, poking her tongue out at Waverly.

“Oh well I knew _you’d_ start,” Waverly quips. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“The poor woman will be bankrupting herself soon enough,” Rosita points out, “what with buying cakes and coffee every single day.”

“Or you’ll be giving her diabetes,” Jeremy adds.

“ _You_ guys eat lunch here every day,” Waverly points out, pouting. “And you have neither problem.”

“Yeah well you don’t charge us as much,” Jeremy counters.

“Unless you’re giving _her_ discounts too,” Rosita says, pretending to be put out. “I thought we had something special Waves.”

Jeremy clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I’m hurt.”

“You guys are so dramatic,” Waverly says, turning away to tidy up a little while she has the chance. She does not bother saying it, but Nicole seldom lets Waverly charge her less and only just about accepted a loyalty card when Waverly brandished it at her a few weeks prior. Most of the time, she doesn’t even get it stamped.

“We’re not dramatic, we’re hurt,” Rosita jokes and Jeremy nods.

“ _Wounded_. I’m tempted to uninvite you from craft night.”

“You guys should keep this double act up for Friday. I’m sure Robin will be highly impressed.”

Back still turned, Waverly hears Jeremy groan. “Don’t you bring Friday night into - oh, hi Nicole!”

Waverly spins around, just in time to see Nicole cast a confused look between the three of them. She is here often enough now to be on tentatively solid ground with both Rosita and Jeremy, but she is still not quite accustomed to the bickering that passes back and forth between the trio, almost without reprieve.

Still, she greets everyone warmly, and nods when Waverly asks if she wants her usual drink and sandwich. Waverly has fallen into the habit of holding one back for Nicole now, to ensure they do not sell out before Nicole can call around.

The mock-argument about Friday night peters out in Nicole’s presence and this in itself must alert Nicole. She is too polite to venture any questions, but her little look of bemusement is all Jeremy and Rosita need. They really do have quite the double-act, and Waverly knows when she has been played. She sees it happening before Jeremy even opens his mouth.

Even so, he speaks before Waverly can stop him and, deep down, Waverly knows it is no less than she deserves after all her recent meddling.

“We were just talking about this Friday,” he says evenly, smiling at Nicole. “Waverly has arranged for a few of us to have coffee here tonight after the rest of the stores have closed.”

Silently, Waverly prays for the ground to open up beneath her.

“That sounds great,” Nicole replies with genuine enthusiasm, but it is clear that she is not following Jeremy’s line of thought as closely as Waverly is.

“Oh it will be,” Jeremy goes, his voice almost as sweet as the revenge he is so clearly exacting. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to intrude, but that’s very kind of you,” Nicole says, still polite to a fault. “Not if it’s just a small thing.”

“It’s us and this guy Jeremy is crushing on,” Waverly says quickly, sending an evil look across at Jeremy before things can get too out of hand.

“So you’ll be in good company Nicole,” Rosita says, quick-witted as ever, and if Waverly could shove her out the door she would.

 

“See? Rosita doesn’t think you’re intruding,” Jeremy points out, still speaking too sweetly and arousing Nicole’s suspicions as he does. Rosita and Jeremy’s fixed, megawatt grins probably do not help matters.

Waverly feels a deep blush on her cheeks and knows it must be as visible as a beacon when Nicole sends her a look across the counter, searching for Waverly’s confirmation that she would not be an unwanted guest.

“You’d be more than welcome, if you’re not busy,” Waverly says, determined to keep her voice even and deprive her friends of the satisfaction of seeing her rattled and out of sorts.

“If you guys are sure? I could always try and come by after work. Assuming my shift ends when it’s supposed to.”

And just like that, Jeremy has exacted the perfect comeback for what has, essentially, been months of teasing.

Waverly cannot say she blames him, nor can she say that she is entirely bothered that he got one up on her. It was hardly a bad thing, after all, to have another excuse to spend time with Nicole.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**ix.**

 

Undeniably, the worst thing about working around the rush hour business was that it left Waverly and Wynonna precious little time to do their own chores and errands.

They call into the mall’s little all-hours supermarket before Curtis turns up in the truck to take them all home. He is a handyman when he is not tending his tomatoes, and sometimes he takes work out of Purgatory and closer to the city’s suburbs. On those days, he gives the girls a ride. It is a blessed relief when the snow is as bad as it has been in recent days. They do not want to have to rely on the buses.

When Waverly and Wynonna arrive at the supermarket, they find it completely packed with shoppers, all trying to find food for the evening.

“Divide and conquer?” Waverly says to Wynonna when they step inside, sharing a look of total horror at the crowds.

“ _Definitely_ ,” Wynonna says, picking up a basket and handing it over. She takes a second for herself.  

They split the list in half, quite literally by tearing the piece of paper in two, and resolve to meet at the self-service register as soon as possible.

A woman on a mission, Waverly whizzes fast around the aisles she needs, bagging up some fresh produce in a few paper bags and moving quickly by. Most of the vegetables they use are grown by Curtis and, importantly to Waverly who has been trying ceaselessly to educate her Aunt and Uncle on environmentalism, seasonal. However, a few small indulgences - primarily an enormous amount of satsumas (well, it is Christmas) - are being allowed to slip through the net.

Baby steps, after all.

In search of pasta shells for a mercenary dinner tonight, she is trying to weave a slalom course between countless indecisive shoppers when she accidentally knocks into someone’s backpack with the corner of her basket.

The person turns slightly, right as Waverly apologises. Then, Waverly catches sight of the other shopper and her breath stalls for a moment.

It is Nicole, because of course it is. She grins and says,

“Since it’s you I’ll forgive you.”

“Good job you didn’t start cursing the random, clumsy stranger who bumped into you,” Waverly replies.

“Well, that would have been awkward.”

Waverly nods, taking in Nicole as they are shunted about by passing shoppers. She is clearly right out of work, still in her uniform but much more dressed-down than normal. Her blue shirt is not tucked in quite as neatly as normal, and she has her top button undone with the tie loose around her neck. She has unbuttoned her cuffs and messily rolled the sleeves up to the elbow.

It shouldn’t, Waverly decides, look as good as it does.

But nevertheless, the sight of Nicole like this sends Waverly’s mind into a spin.

They stand quietly for just a moment, but when somebody is forced to reach around Nicole for a packet of fusilli, Nicole steps away with a word of apology.

It brings her closer to Waverly, which does not especially help the latter to think any more clearly.

“I think we’re probably in the way,” Nicole announces and Waverly agrees quickly.

“I’m usually internally complaining about people like us.”

“Well then, let’s get moving. Did you need something here?”

Waverly points out the bag of tiny Orecchiette shells and Nicole passes them to her, almost as though they are doing their grocery shopping together, ready to stock the cupboards in the same, shared kitchen.

The thought wallops Waverly and she banishes it just as quickly as it came. There is no need for any kind of talk like that.

By unspoken agreement, she and Nicole both drift to the end of the aisle and round the corner into the next. The stroll down together, both of them picking up items as and when they see them.

After bumping into a few more customers, and waiting semi-patiently for a small blockade of shoppers to dissipate, Nicole sighs to herself.

“I should really learn to do an online order.”

“I think they’d laugh at me if I asked them to deliver to our home in Purgatory. But we never get any other time to do the chores we need. I suppose it’s the same with shift work.”

Nicole nods. “It’s okay if I have a day off or maybe a later shift. I can go in the morning when it’s quiet. But I’ve sort of been really lax on the groceries recently, so now I’m paying the price.”

She pauses, casting a sideways glance down at Waverly as they gravitate in the direction of the registers. Even from a slight distance Waverly can already see Wynonna waiting for her, absently scrolling on her phone as she stands around idle.

“Except,” Nicole continues with a pointed little smile, “this time it got a lot better, what with bumping into you and all.”

Waverly immediately feels a warm little glow settle between her ribs. She looks up to meet Nicole’s eye and finds herself wearing an enormous smile that seems to have sprung, unbidden, to her face quite without her realising.

As time goes on, she is starting to understand that it happens a lot around Nicole; that big, unconscious grin on her face.

“I could easily say the same thing,” she replies as earnestly as possible.

At this, Nicole glances down again.

“Yeah, on that note. Well, kinda. Okay, not really on that note at all, but I wanted to ask. Are you sure it’s okay that Jeremy invited me to come by on Friday?” Nicole pauses and Waverly can see that she looks unsure. “It’s just...there was kind of a tone. Or an undertone. I don’t want to feel like I’m crashing.”

Waverly feels the first stirrings of another blush when she thinks back to the afternoon. Nothing had really been said that was truly embarrassing, but Nicole was right; it had been glaringly obvious that there was some unspoken undercurrent. Even though it was impossible for Nicole to miss, Waverly had enjoyed living in blissful ignorance. Now, however, it had been confirmed.

The last thing she wants is for Nicole to feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m really, really sorry about them,” Waverly says, slowing to a stop and quickly checking that they are not in anyone else’s way. She knows it is wrong to put this entirely on Jeremy and Rosita, but she is desperately trying to save face in front of Nicole. “They’re great people, honestly. There’s just always some teasing or pretend argument going on. It’s always harmless but sometimes if others hear it - well, I get how it might seem without context. But they weren’t poking fun or being underhand.”

“No, it’s fine. No apology needed. I just - it was your thing by the sounds of it and I wanted to make sure you were okay with it. I like Jeremy and Rosita, they’re nice.” Nicole makes an effort to sound neutral and unbothered, but Waverly can see a small flicker of relief on her face.

It is never nice to feel left out or on the sidelines - Waverly of all people understands that.

“Trust me, you were invited because you’re welcome. Like I said on Monday, I like it that you call into the shop all the time.”

_You’re very_ , very _welcome_ , Waverly thinks to herself.

“Okay, well if you’re sure; I’ll trust you that it’s okay,” Nicole says, but she sounds more jovial now, and another quick glance at her face reveals that she is smiling again. “I actually have an early shift that day, so I should be done in time to change and come by.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Waverly tells her brightly,

“So,” Nicole goes on, voice playful as her affable demeanour settles firmly back in place, “what kind of ammunition do your friends have to tease you about?”

“Oh,” Waverly says, mind immediately going blank. In a moment of desperation she wings a silent apology towards Jeremy for revealing his secrets. “At the moment we’re kind of picking on Jeremy actually, arguably a little too much - I think he’s eternally grateful that you turned up when you did.”

Nicole chuckles. “I do have my uses.”

She says no more and, although she must be curious, she only flashes Waverly a brief look of enquiry and probes no further than that.

Waverly, however, figures that if Nicole will be present on Friday, she will know the full story soon enough.

“Do you know the plant shop?” she asks, pausing as Nicole hums an affirmative. “Well the guy who owns it, Robin? Jeremy has a _massive_ crush on him, has done for pretty much a year. He just gets a bit nervous, bless him, and we’re kind of on his case about it now.”

Nicole makes a sweet sound a little like a coo, intended - Waverly assumes - to mean something close to _aww, how cute_. “Poor guy. Well, I guess we’ve all been there.”

Waverly raises her eyebrows. “You’re far too generous - much more so than Rosie and I. We haven’t all been there for a solid _year_.”

As she speaks, she ignores the little voice in her head calling her a hypocrite. She might have only known Nicole since November, but she could be doing more too.

“Okay, yeah. Perhaps not a year but I get it,” Nicole pauses and flashes a significant look at Waverly, “it can be hard sometimes when you’ve got a killer crush on someone. You want to get it right.”

Waverly feels her pulse quicken at the look on Nicole’s face. There is no way for her comment to be misconstrued. Waverly almost wants to beg a moment to hide behind another aisle and punch the air, just like in the movies. Nicole had all but said it: she _likes_ Waverly.

Instead of a moment of celebration, Waverly meets Nicole’s gaze and says,

“Yeah, I definitely get that. I don’t want to get things wrong.”

“Well, for what it’s worth Waverly, I’m pretty certain you could never get something like that wrong.”

At this, Waverly all but feels her heart settle in her mouth. This is not the setting, and perhaps her intended words are not the most romantic, but she resolves to take action all the same.

“Are you sure about that?” she asks, biting at her lip. “I mean, really, really sure?”

This makes Nicole laugh, the sound full of gentle sweetness. “Yes, I am. Very much so.”

Waverly takes a breath and in the time it takes for her to prepare to ask Nicole if she would perhaps like to get a drink sometime, a drink other than a coffee in Waverly’s family cafe, a voice behind her interrupts the conversation.  

“Waverly, hi.”

It should have been obvious that she was currently engaged in an intense conversation, but something like that would never stop the person standing at Waverly’s back. In fact, she dreads to think how long he had been standing there.

She would not put it past Tucker Gardner to pick his moment deliberately.

Waverly grimaces, and Nicole catches the expression. It was not Waverly’s intention, but she supposes it would not hurt to let Nicole see that she is disappointed to have been interrupted.

“Hi Tucker,” Waverly says, voice tight as she slowly turns around. On instinct, she also steps slightly to one side so as not to have her back completely to Nicole.

What follows is a silence that can only be described as painfully awkward. Waverly finds she must physically fight the urge to fill it with inane niceties as has been a long-standing habit of hers, intended to spare others’ blushes.

In this case, however, she reminds herself that Tucker was the one who decided to speak to her.

More than that, judging by the ugly, sour look on his face as he glances between Waverly and Nicole, he had known exactly the sort of conversation he had been interrupting.

Of all the people Waverly would have wanted to know about her sexuality, Tucker Gardner had to be right at the very bottom of the pile. The idea bothers her - but only because she has delayed having that particular conversation with Gus and Curtis for longer than she should have.

Still, Tucker has no real proof and Waverly cannot say if he will do anything with the information at all.

He gives a final, cold look towards Nicole before turning back to Waverly.

“How are you doing, Waverly?” he asks slowly, in that detached, even way of his that unsettled Waverly more than was perhaps reasonable. From anyone else it might seem serene, but somehow Tucker made it incredibly sinister.

“I’m okay,” Waverly says, voice cold, and does not bother to ask the question back to him. A part of her feels bad for being so impatient with him, but she buries it deep. She has learned the hard way that you cannot give Tucker even an inch. “But I’m actually just having a conv- ”

“I know,” Tucker says, sounding perhaps slightly apologetic but not bothering to really try and convince anyone. “But it’s nice to see you Waverly, I always miss seeing you when I’m around.”

“Well, uh, that’s very - that’s very nice of you to say Tucker, but…” Waverly pauses, aware that she has absolutely no idea of what excuse to make. It must be obvious to both bystanders, because that is when Nicole gently nudges their arms together.

“Don’t forget the time,” she says softly, and Waverly sends her a haphazard, confused look. With an impressive poker face, Nicole adds, “we don’t want to be late or we’ll miss our ride.”

“Oh,” Waverly says, hoping she sounds like a woman who has just remembered something obvious. “Yes, of course. You know how it is with all the snow,” she says, flashing Tucker a grim, insincere smile.

She does not bother waiting to see if he does in fact know how it is with the snow, but instead turns and makes a hasty escape with Nicole at her side without bothering to look back at Tucker.

Unlike Waverly, however, Nicole takes not only a second, but a third glance.

“Thank you,” Waverly breathes when they have crossed the store and reached Wynonna. She hears Waverly speak and looks up from her phone with a question on her face.

“Nicole just saved me from you-know-who,” Waverly says, indicating in Tucker’s direction with a jerk of her head.

Rather unsubtly, Wynonna looks and wrinkles her nose.

“Ugh, him again. Weirdo kid.”

“Yeah who _is_ he?” Nicole asks, turning back to look yet again. “That was like, the most awkward interaction of my life and I wasn’t even a part of it.”

“Tucker Gardner,” Wynonna announces with a sigh. She snorts when Nicole looks shocked. “Yes, like Gardner Gardner. I’m surprised you two haven’t met.”

“I haven’t been at their store,” Nicole explains, but she sounds absent as she looks over her shoulder, her eyes still fixed on Tucker’s back.  

“Everything okay?” Waverly asks, and it seems to snap Nicole out of her thought process. She turns quickly back to the sisters.

“Yeah, fine. Sorry. I just didn’t know there was a brother, that’s all.”

“Yeah that’s probably because they don’t _want_ you to know,” Wynonna says, voice rather cruel in her disdain.

“Wynonna,” Waverly retorts, pitching her voice low in slight admonishment.

“Oh come on Wave. You _hate_ him!”

Waverly turns to Nicole. “Okay, ignore her. Hate is a very, very strong word. I don’t hate anybo-”

“Tucker’s a little creep and no one would blame Waves for hating him,” Wynonna interjects, also speaking directly to Nicole. “He pretty much stalked her for a whole year in high school and only stopped when she got a boyfriend, _not_ when she told him to stop. Then, the year after Waverly graduated they caught him taking upskirts. They found like, a ton of them on his phone - apparently he’d found a new pastime to keep him occupied for his final year. Somehow, he still made it into college even with that glowing high school record. But in your job you must know the type. Entitled little shits who don’t want to be told anything.”

Nicole makes an angry little noise. “Oh yeah, I know the type.”

“Well, anyway,” Waverly says quickly, feeling oddly as though she is under a spotlight. She knows rationally that she has nothing to be embarrassed about, but it felt as though it was an odd, conditioned response. Unwanted male attention feeding itself into shame; a tale as old as time. “The point is, you saved me this time. Should have had you on hand during high school.”

“Um, _I_ was on hand during high school!” Wynonna points out indignantly.

“Well Nicole was very diplomatic. You literally kicked Tucker’s ass.”

“Yeah and I’d do it again,” Wynonna says, deliberately hamming her response up for dramatic effect. All the same, Waverly has no doubt that her sister is being sincere.

“To be fair, high school me would probably have kicked his ass too,” Nicole offers, looking slightly sheepish. Waverly flashes Nicole a disbelieving look and she shakes her head quickly in response. “No, seriously. Me now and me then? Two _very_ different people.”

Beside Waverly, Wynonna gives Nicole an appreciative look. “ _Finally_ you seem kind of cool to me.”

Nicole casts a nervous look between the sisters.

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a good thing or not.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you think Nicole was interested in Tucker?” Waverly asks Wynonna on the drive back home, both of them strapped into the backseats of Curtis’ truck, Gus already sat up front.

“Oh, is _he_ back?” their aunt murmurs darkly, more to herself than the girls.

It was rare to find anyone in Purgatory who had a good word to say about the youngest Gardner.

“Yes,” Wynonna says to their aunt before turning to Waverly. “And of _course_ Nicole was interested in him. You could probably write a textbook on him. He’ll be on one of those crime shows eventually, where they talk about how a serial killer finally snapped.”

Waverly rolls her eyes but does not retort.

Probably, Wynonna is right and Tucker sparked some sixth cop sense in Nicole, but Waverly’s mind is already in overdrive from their conversation in the grocery store, the one where Nicole all but told Waverly to ask her out…

There was something off about the way things ended between them, cordial in Wynonna’s presence but with an energy between them that Waverly could only half place.

In addition to Tucker making things weird, Wynonna had given a glancing mention to Champ. Waverly worries that Nicole had been thrown by the change in mood, or even that she was already beginning to realise that life as an Earp always came with a whole heap of baggage.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**x.**

 

Mercedes Gardner all but clatters through the cafe door, right as the sisters are about to close. The shop is empty, although Mercedes hardly seems to notice either way.

She seems breathless, although she has not had far to come. The skin of her cheeks is faintly pink, her eyes wide and slightly wild.

“You’re never going to believe this,” she says, not bothering with a better introduction. There is a note to her voice which heralds bad news, but an opposing look of something like relief on her face.

“Try us,” Wynonna says, although it is obvious that Mercedes does not need any prompting to continue.

“The cops came by the shop this afternoon and asked to speak to all three of us in the back room. They said they understood that we didn’t have enough staff to cover but that it was urgent. At first I thought it was going to be more questions for Beth and I, but then they started speaking to Tucker instead.

They started asking him if he could tell them where he was on the night of the robbery. They asked him all sorts of things about his involvement in the business, and at first it just didn’t make any sense.”

Mercedes breaks off and rakes a hand through her hair. For the first time she seems to realise her surroundings, seems to realise how overwrought she is. She sits heavily in the nearest chair and exhales slowly.

“They arrested him. They arrested my brother for the robbery.”   

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Nicole must have known something we didn’t,” Waverly says hours later, sitting down on the foot of Wynonna’s bed. “When we were in the store last night.”

The news of Tucker’s arrest was supposed to be top secret, and Mercedes should not have told the sisters what had happened. But she had needed to speak to someone before, in her words, she had a breakdown over the whole thing.

After all, while no one would put much of anything past Tucker, it did not initially make sense for him to rob the family store. If he wanted money, all he would have needed was to ask.

“But what?” Wynonna says, sipping at a beer. Tonight, Waverly has one of her own. She was not normally one for drinking on a work night, but it had simply been one of those weeks.

It had veered from flirting wildly with Nicole on Monday, to being confronted with the return of Tucker himself, and then to almost, _almost_ asking Nicole out for drinks.

Now, however, both Waverly and Wynonna were reeling from Mercedes’ news.

After setting her bottle back down, Wynonna continues. “You said yourself he barely did anything, just stared weirdly at the two of you. And much as it pains me, Tucker isn’t especially stupid. Surely he wouldn’t have turned up to work in the place he robbed without being sure he hadn’t left some kind of obvious clue.”

Waverly shrugs. “I really don’t know Wyn. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Wynonna waggles her eyebrows. “Or you could message _Nicole_. See if she’ll tell you anything.”

“She wouldn’t - she’s professional and I for one think that’s a good thing. Besides, even if I wanted to I couldn’t. I don’t have her number.”

At this, Wynonna looks incredulous. “You’re kidding me right?”

Waverly takes a drink. “Nope.”

“ _Waverly_ , I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, that was Gus and Curtis.”

“Well evidently if you haven’t even got her number yet. Come on, what’s even going on between you two?”

Out of paranoia, Waverly glances quickly at Wynonna’s door to ensure it is shut.

“I’m not sure. I think we’ve both sort of cryptically admitted we’re into each other. I was going to ask her out, but Tucker ruined it. It felt right in the moment, but now I can sort of feel I’ve lost my nerve.”

Wynonna pulls a face. “But she’s gonna be there tomorrow right? At the meet up I’m gonna avoid as my Christmas present to Jeremy.”

“For your Christmas present to Jeremy you could actually pay him for fixing your laptop.”

“Yeah that probably won’t happen. But I’ll definitely _not_ ruin his kinda-date with Robin.”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll settle for that.”

“See? It’s very magnanimous of me. Also, you’re bad at avoiding my questions.”

“ _Yes_ jeez. Nicole will be there. Jeremy invited her as revenge.”

“Revenge?” Wynonna asks, looking blank. “So you’re both winding the other up by...arranging dates. With people you both actually like.”

Waverly considers this for a moment. “When you put it like that it sounds weird. But I guess so, yeah.”

“Whatever. We already know you guys are weird.”

“ _Hey_.”

“More importantly, you can just ask her out then. They were setting up the little outdoor Christmas market today - it’s gross and romantic. Pretty sure you could just ask her to meet you there after work.”

Waverly pauses, feeling as though she has been hit by a bus. She decides that she could kiss Wynonna and, on a whim, she does. She leans forward and lays her lips briefly against her sister’s forehead.

It is exactly the kind of setting she had been searching for; not too much like a formal date, but romantic enough to hit the right notes too.

“Sometimes you really _are_ a genius.”  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**xi.**

 

More than one month after the first robbery, once again all anyone working in the mall wants to discuss is the latest update to the case.

In a perfect mirror of that morning in November, Jeremy calls in first thing - before Nicole, even - and asks, again, if Waverly has heard.

“Mercedes told us,” Waverly confirms, “but at first it was a struggle for us to wrap our heads around it, that’s for sure.”

“I always thought that kid was creepy,” Jeremy muses, turning the lid of his reusable cup over and over between his fingers, “but I wouldn’t have thought him capable of that.”

“Me and Wynonna talked it to death last night. We’re still not sure, but we kind of made it make sense to us. See, Tucker has always had a chip on his shoulder and he’s always, _always_ resented his sisters. As you can imagine, Mercedes and Beth were really popular at school. They breezed through socially, but they were smart too. Proper wonder kids for really, really wealthy parents.

“Mr and Mrs Gardner were always filthy rich, but you couldn’t have wanted to meet nicer people. They spoilt their kids rotten, but it never went to the girls’ heads like it did with Tucker. Just like my Aunt and Uncle, the kids had to work the shop and earn their keep. Tucker _hated_ that. He always hated the word ‘no’, if you couldn’t tell,” Waverly says with a wry smile and is met with a short bark of a laugh from Jeremy. Waverly allows herself a little laugh of her own as she goes on, still making Jeremy’s coffee as she speaks.

“But after both parents died in a car crash one night, Mercedes was put in charge. It was awful for her, but she was the eldest and there wasn’t anyone else. All the families where we live helped out as best they could, but Mercedes was the one who got put in charge of the business - _and_ the finances. She got strict on Tucker because, unlike her parents, she didn’t have the rosy glasses. She knew he was a little shit. She kept most of his spending money back for college, made him work the store longer if he wanted more. And the thing I think Tucker hated most? She didn’t bail him out as much when he did stuff wrong. So I don’t think this just about him stealing for money. This was about him making a point about what he wanted; what he felt he was _owed_. This was about him getting revenge on his sisters.”

“But he must have known his sisters would have been suspects. Didn't he care?” Jeremy asks, taking his coffee from Waverly and fixing the lid on himself.

“Probably not. But that’s Tucker.”

“Well,” Jeremy says, shrugging to show he is none the wiser really, “it looks like that’s the mystery solved, so the rest of us can breathe easy. But I guess maybe it sucks for you.”

Jeremy states this so gently that at first Waverly does not follow his train of thought.

At her blank look, he adds, “case closed. No more cops around here.”

_Oh_.

Waverly had been doing her best not to think about that.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Waverly says, voice soft and sad in equal measure. “But she’s been coming round even when she hasn’t been working or stationed here, so who knows.”

Jeremy smiles, and it is clear that he is reflecting on something else, something in addition to Waverly’s words.

“What?” she asks, tone cautious. “What’s that look for?”

“Just the two of us,” Jeremy says, “we both stopped denying things, at least. I think that means we levelled up. We’ll be battling the boss any day now.”

Waverly grins back at him. “Looks like it, yeah. So maybe some of us need to keep that in mind for tonight.”

“Or _both_ of us,” Jeremy retorts, feigning indignancy.

“Hey, I nearly did it this week. Would have asked her out and everything, but Tucker’s a little weasel.”

“Well, keep that momentum going,” Jeremy says, a concluding note in his voice as he sets the exact change for his coffee on the counter and turns to leave. “And pass some of it onto me while you’re at it.”

Waverly watches him leave, feeling both nervous and excited for him. She actually finds herself trying it; eyes boring into his back as she wills some of her own good fortune with Nicole into Jeremy’s life too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As it happens, some sort of non-physical, telepathic transference of luck might have worked, but Jeremy was already visibly nervous before Waverly had even properly shut the shop for the night.

Robin calls around as promised, arriving before any of the others with a hamper of all sorts of greenhouse-grown plants for Gus and Curtis. He states that he thought Curtis might like to know that he hasn’t forgotten everything he was taught, before sitting comfortably on the worn old couch at Waverly’s behest.

This means that he is settled in and at ease when Jeremy and Rosita arrive together, already squabbling over something or other, as is their way.

Waverly had taken the initiative to make their usual orders as she was finishing her final clean-up of the day. She has no idea when Nicole will arrive and does not want to risk her drink going cold.

When Rosita sees where they are to sit, she all but elbows Jeremy out of the way in her haste to sit in the seat next to Waverly and leave the second half of the couch free.

Waverly is sure she hears Rosita hiss ‘ _you’ll thank me later_ ’ into Jeremy’s ear, but if Robin notices anything at all amiss he has the good grace to ignore the interaction entirely.

More than likely, he is as used to Jeremy and Rosita’s odd but endearing dynamic as the rest of the store owners here.

It is perhaps slightly more heavy-handed than Waverly herself might have played it and she raises her eyebrows at Rosita to make her point.

Rosie just shrugs and reaches gratefully for her coffee, mouthing _he needs the push_ at Waverly, who cannot really deny that this is true of not only Jeremy, but also herself too.

With that slightly rocky start behind him, Jeremy initially sits down awkwardly, holding on tightly to his sweet latte and drinking deeply from his cup in an obvious ploy to avoid talking.

Waverly understands that this was her idea - not to mention that she truly does wish to catch up on things with Robin - and so she takes it upon herself to lead the conversation. It feels rather like being a conductor, smoothly turning the discussion onto avenues that might naturally draw Rosita and, especially, Jeremy into the interaction.

And if there is one thing Waverly Earp has always been good at, it is massaging any social situation necessary. Once, many years before Gus retired from the cafe, she had pulled a second job working in Shorty’s bar in Purgatory. Dealing with the locals, in particular the local men, had been a special skill all of its own, along with easy small talk and amassing an endless well of conversation starters.

It takes about half an hour, but things get better after that. Jeremy relaxes in his seat, angling his body to talk better with Robin.

It is the perfect body language _and_ the perfect timing, because Nicole picks this moment to arrive.

Waverly finds herself beaming when she sees Nicole outside of the tall storefront windows, and she shoots far too enthusiastically out of her seat to unlock the doors.

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” Waverly says, happy to see Nicole wearing a smile that is just as wide as her own.

Nicole ducks inside, which is no mean feat for someone of her height.

“I’m sorry if I’m late,” she says once is she standing properly again, tipping a little wave to everyone else, who have momentarily paused their conversation to say hello.

“It’s no problem, there wasn’t really a set time anyway.”

“I would have been alright, but I got caught up in a case at work,” Nicole explains, catching the look on Rosita’s face in time to playfully add, “and before you say anything _no_ , not that one.”

“Well I heard at lunch that you did some pretty cool cop work,” Rosita says anyway, eyes flitting briefly to Waverly.

“Oh you did, did you?” Nicole asks, turning her head away to give Waverly a pointed look.

Waverly pulls an expression that she hopes conveys a little bit of guilt. “Sorry. I just figured it would get out eventually.”

“S’fine,” Nicole says, shaking her head. “It will. Just so long as we’re all clear that _I’ve_ told you all absolutely nothing.”

Everyone hurries to offer their assurances, while Waverly offers Nicole a hot chocolate.

She accepts and accompanies Waverly to the counter, although Waverly insists she does not have to.

Behind them, their friends resume their conversation - something about a television show Waverly has not yet had the time to watch. There are strong opinions all round, apparently.

She had left a quiet, melancholy Christmas album playing softly through the shop speakers, and a song sits wonderfully between them all as Waverly begins her usual routine. She can act on muscle memory alone by now, allowing herself to surreptitiously focus upon Nicole’s easy, somewhat soothing presence and the comforting hum of the music.

_I’ll keep you warm underneath the Christmas lights, sing you through the silent nights. Through the snow and through the storm, I’ll keep you warm…_

“Do you need something to eat?” Waverly asks, “if you got out of work late?”

There is not a lot of choice left, but Waverly usually collects up their spare cakes and passes the ones that cannot be sold the next day on to a nearby food bank and homeless shelter. It saves perfectly good food going to waste; it’s not like any of it is stale - she just has to follow catering rules. So, she lets Nicole rifle through the box and absolutely refuses all payment.

“Nope,” she says sternly, “I haven’t let the others pay today either. I invited you, and it’s Christmas so this is my present.”

Nicole protests weakly, but apparently knows which battles to pick.

“Thank you,” she says, voice weighty and earnest with a sincere sense of gratitude.

(From above, the music still plays: _I’ll be your candle, be your light, be anything you need; star above the night to guide you.._.)

“So,” Waverly begins after a brief silence, keeping her voice low. “Just between you and me - was it you who cracked the case?”

Waverly already knows the answer, but deep down she would love to hear it from Nicole first.

Looking surprisingly self-conscious, Nicole nods.

Waverly wrinkles her brow. “But that’s a good thing, yeah? That’s an _amazing_ achievement Nicole - I bet your bosses are really happy.”

After a moment, Nicole lets a proud little smile creep over her face. “Yeah, I think it’s the break I needed really.”

Waverly pauses, carton of milk in her hand. She can see that Nicole is being both deliberately vague and unfairly modest.

“Come on,” Waverly says, leaning closer so they can whisper. “I promise I won’t tell _anyone_ , not even those guys. How did you know? Because you must have worked it out the other night when we were shopping.”

“I did,” Nicole admits. “We had very, very minimal security footage of him breaking in because he always disabled it. But I think that made him a bit overconfident. I recognised the tear in his black hoodie, as well as a scar on his arm. And I mean, it was an easy solve really. He had access to the store, knew the alarm codes...I’m surprised he wasn’t checked out before to be honest.”

Waverly shakes her head. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’re super cop.”

This makes Nicole laugh and bite at her lip, looking unintentionally sultry as she gazes across the counter at Waverly.

“That’s definitely not true. But it did feel good to get something like this under my belt so soon after graduating. It can be hard to prove yourself. But when it comes down to it, it was all just luck. Bumping into you at the store, Tucker interrupting us.”

Waverly, however, is not having any excuses. “But a lesser cop wouldn’t have connected the dots. You studied the footage, you did the legwork beforehand. You deserve the collar. Is that what they say in cop shows?”

Nicole’s laughter chimes out between them again. “Something like that, yeah.”

They lapse into silence again and although it is comfortable enough, Waverly’s heart has started up an insistent drumbeat in her chest. As imperceptibly as possible, she takes a few steadying breaths and counts a couple of bars of music.

_Magic lost and found, love is all around. Let it find you_.

“Actually,” she says, speaking as casually as possible, “since we’re speaking about the other night, and about Tucker...”

Nicole nods, immediately picking up on Waverly’s mood. “Yes?”

Waverly swallows. “We sort of got cut off by him a little bit.”

“We did.”

“And it sort of felt a bit like...well, I don’t know. Like we were discussing something we should go back to.”

“I agree.”

“And based on what you said, about me not messing certain _things_ up if I were to ask, I suppose what I wanted to know is - are you doing anything tomorrow?”

There. It is out there now. Waverly has started the chain reaction. She feel a little tremble in her fingers as she pours Nicole’s hot chocolate.

Quietly, Nicole waits for her to set the cup between them on the counter before she replies.

“I have another early shift. One that will hopefully finish on time, but afterwards? No, I’m not doing anything at all.”

_Come inside and close the door. Now, I know you’ve faced the cold alone before, but you don’t have to face the cold alone no more, because I’ll keep you warm..._

Waverly pauses, knowing this is her cue to finally, _finally_ ask the question. She pauses for so long, however, that Nicole has to give her a gentle prompt.

“Why do you ask?” she asks softly.

“I was uh, I was just wondering,” Waverly begins, trying to steady her nerves. “I was wondering if you might want to check out the winter market. With um...with me.”

For just a moment Nicole’s eyes grow a little wide, as though she is genuinely surprised that Waverly has asked.

But then, as ever, she smiles.

“I’d absolutely love to,” she says evenly, holding Waverly’s gaze and beaming.

“Oh,” Waverly says, unable to stop a delighted little chuckle as it bubbles up from her chest. “Oh, great! Fantastic! Well I guess we can just meet outside the main entrance tomorrow after I close the store?”

“Sure,” Nicole says, arguably handling this development far more easily than Waverly. “But I don’t want a repeat of tonight if I’m held behind again. Can I get your number?”

She asks this so easily, so smoothly, that Waverly almost wants to ask her for flirting tips. She could use a little of that easy confidence tomorrow night. She does nothing of the sort, however, and instead only takes Nicole’s phone so that she can input her own number.

“Perfect thank you, that way I can call if I’m running late and you won’t feel stood up,” Nicole says when she takes her phone back. Then, unexpectedly, she tips Waverly a wink as she runs the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “You know. _Just in case_.”

She says this in the way of someone who knows they are not being convincing because they are not trying to be. Nicole wants her to know that she did not ask for her number _just in case_ she is running late, but because she simply wants Waverly’s number; because she thinks she might need it.

(It is only afterwards that Waverly realises she did not think to get Nicole’s number in return.)

Shortly afterwards, they drift back to the table, back to their friends, and they sit together and quietly, happily, soak up the ambiance. Waverly decides it is perhaps all she needs in the world; her friends, the fairy lights, the Christmas songs, _and Nicole_.

_Come inside and close the door. I know you’ve faced the cold alone before, but you don’t have to face the cold alone no more, because I’ll keep you warm…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Waves!!  
_ _Did I or did I not see you giving a certain someone your phone number earlier tonight?_

  


_Jeremy!!  
_ _Depends. Did I or did I not see_ **_you_ ** _hitting things off with Robin BIG TIME??????_

  


That is maybe a thing that happened, yes.  
It seemed to go really well?? I can’t believe it?!  
He added me on Facebook before, which is admittedly very 2012…  
_But he also messaged me to say ‘hi’ so I’m not complaining!!  
_I really, really can’t believe it!!!!

  


_Well I can! Jer, you’re a great catch and you deserve to give things a try with Robin.  
_ _I’m biased but I think he’s a pretty great catch too._

  


_Thank you Waves.  
_ _And I know I joked about it at the time, but I am actually really grateful that you set this up._

  


_Hey, I’ve got your back._

  


No seriously, thank you!  
_And I’m so glad you gave your number to Nicole - she’s so nice. You two suit each other.  
_Dare I ask if you two are gonna meet outside of the shop?

  


Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
_Tomorrow!!!!! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!  
_Not that I’m excited and actually pretty terrified or anything.

  


_It’s gonna be amazing, you have no need to worry.  
_ _Nicole’s super into you, we can all see it._

 

 

 

 

 

 

WAVES I KNOW IT’S LIKE 11 NOW BUT ARE YOU AWAKE????  
_ME AND ROBIN ARE GONNA GET DINNER NEXT WEEK!!!!  
_WAVES WAKE UP I NEED YOU TO YELL WITH ME

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**xii.**

 

Nicole does not call into the store that day, but she actually texts Waverly to tell her she has been stationed at a crime scene too far away from the mall.

She also sends a healthy dose of sad-looking faces, two apologies, and a message that reads _but I’m really looking forward to seeing you tonight_ with two heart emojis at the end.

Waverly is delighted at the messages (and what they imply) and she immediately adds Nicole’s number to her contacts, saving her name with a rainbow and a unicorn - simply because it feels right.

Although she misses seeing Nicole during the daytime, she is too filled with nervous energy to really register much of anything. The day passes by in a blur, and she concentrates on very little except a visit from an excited and near-hyperactive Jeremy, who is still floating on cloud nine after the night before.

Both Wynonna and Gus are present in the store, and although Waverly might have considered staying at home, she knows that she would be unbearably nervous if she were to sit around idle for hours on end. She would rather be busy on a day like today. And, given that it is a December weekend, they are rushed off their feet, which is exactly what Waverly had hoped for. There is barely time to breathe, let alone to sit and worry as the seconds on the clock tick down to the evening.

Much of what Jeremy says about Robin passes Gus by, likely because he is speaking a mile a minute, but Wynonna follows along well enough.

“That was my doing, see?” she says when Jeremy draws breath. “I saved the day by not coming.”

“I don’t care what it was,” Jeremy points out. “I’m just happy it worked out.”

On his way out again, he gives Waverly a significant look and tips her a subtle thumbs up.

_It will work out for you, too_ , he mouths across the room and, improbably, Waverly understands him on the second try.

She smiles, and can only wish that supportive words alone were enough to quell the tumultuous horde of butterflies moving ceaselessly around her stomach.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Waverly checks her phone at the end of the day, there are no further messages from Nicole.

As she switches her shirt in the back room, she can only hope this means that Nicole has been busy at work, but not so busy that she has been delayed.

In fact, Waverly is half-tempted to send a message to confirm that they are still meeting, but decides in the end that, in the time it will take her to text, she could just as easily have walked through the mall.

She bids goodbye to Gus and Wynonna, having told them she needed to leave promptly without explicitly stating _why_ , and shrugs into her coat in preparation for the chill outside.

Every year, someone - she assumes whoever owns and runs the mall - organises for a little Christmas market to spring up outside. It is probably a very poor facsimile, with its little faux-wood huts and imitation _Glühwein_ stalls, but Waverly loves it all the same.

It even spills out across the street and into the park opposite the mall. An ice rink goes up, along with a beautiful Christmas tree.

Wynonna was right, it is the perfect place to spend this time with Nicole.

Sweet, wonderful, _beautiful_ Nicole; who is ready and waiting for Waverly the moment she steps outside. Nicole, who looks adorable with her hat and scarf and gloves on. She beams - it would seem she is always, always smiling around Waverly - when they spot each other, and she is quickly within Waverly’s orbit as they meet each other halfway.

Waverly almost forgets that she cannot lean forward and kiss Nicole; that they have not done that for the first time yet.

“Hi,” Waverly says, already feeling a little breathless.

“Hey,” Nicole answers, looking down at two steaming glasses that she is holding between them. “Do you drink this? I kind of took a risk but I really can’t afford to drink two of these without it going to my head so please say you’ll take one.”

“I’d love some wine, thank you,” Waverly says, accepting the mulled wine. “But I haven’t eaten yet, so beware.”

“See, now I’m intrigued as to what might happen,” Nicole admits, taking a sip of her drink. Waverly follows suit. The wine is warm and cloying as it slides into her belly. The strength of it seems to hit her already, and perhaps it is exactly what she needs.

“Trust me, it’s not pretty.”

Nicole throws her a sideways glance as they slowly amble through the market without direction.

“I struggle to believe that,” she says, tone direct and expression playful.

“Believe what?” Waverly asks.

“‘Not pretty’,” Nicole echoes, saying nothing more but placing a weighty implication between them.

The heat and strength of the wine had set a blush against Waverly’s cheeks and she feels it settle deeper into her skin at the compliment.

“Smooth talker,” Waverly says quietly, and Nicole laughs.

Conversation does not resume immediately between them, and it feels as though there is no pressing need for it to do so. This feels cosy and comfortable, just wandering amongst the stalls with Nicole, their arms and hands brushing occasionally rather as though it is intentional on both their parts.

Although Waverly cannot speak for Nicole, she is certainly acting deliberately. But then, after a few instances of this silent back and forth, Nicole’s hand does not draw away quite so smoothly. Instead, it lingers a moment. The soft, fleecy fabric of her gloves settles, little finger drifting against the back of Waverly’s hand through her woollen mittens.

When Waverly does not draw away after a few moments like this, Nicole’s hand settles in Waverly’s and they both hold tight.

The gesture is so small, so natural and yet it sets Waverly’s heart hammering in her chest. It is not nerves, per sé, the feeling thrumming through her, but it is anticipation and excitement and simple, straightforward joy. It feels right when Nicole’s hand slides against Waverly’s - albeit through their gloves - and Waverly already knows that she does not ever want to let go.

Happily, Nicole seems to share the sentiment.

Still twined together, they drop off their empty glasses back at the mulled wine stall and Nicole collects her deposit. Then, they wander about and scour the wares on offer, mostly examining an array of little handmade Christmas decorations; ornaments, candle-holders, and baubles.

This prompts Nicole to ask about Waverly’s family Christmases over the years, and Waverly finds herself happy to share stories. She skips over mention of her parents for now - it hardly seems like first date material - and notes that Nicole offers much less by way of personal information.

All the same, it seems that Nicole too had an aunt who worked to make Christmas special, and she mentions a maternal grandmother who, apparently, had a penchant for making lumpy woollen sweaters every year.

They talk and talk until they have traversed the entire market, eventually coming to a halt a small distance from the modest ice rink, which is already alive with a diverse range of skaters, from couples to families to groups of friends.

Nicole had stopped and bought chestnuts and sugared almonds for them to share, and so they sit together on a free bench and scrabble about at the bottom of the large paper cone in order to finish up the little snacks.

They are sheltered beneath a foliage-starved tree, but someone had taken the time to drape fairy lights over the bare branches and, somehow, it looks wonderfully festive and cheery even without green needles or leaves. The little LEDs twinkle on a timer and the alternating flashes spark like matches within the brown of Nicole’s eyes.  

“Do you ever go ice skating?” Waverly asks, mostly to make conversation. She always makes an effort to use the ice rink at least once every Christmas, but she asks this of Nicole without agenda. The rink is pretty packed and Waverly, licking sugar off her lips, feels greedy and selfish. She wants Nicole all to herself. She wants her in the quiet, calm space of their own little bubble. She wants her while the moment is unencumbered by the presence of others.  

Nicole snorts. “Does it count if I look like Bambi?”

“I mean,” Waverly begins, biting the insides of her cheeks, “if you stay upright it’s a start?”

“Well that’s not a given. I’d definitely need you to hold my hand.”

In truth, they have not long let go of each other’s hands for the first time. Until now it had been an unspoken and unacknowledged gesture, one that had left no room for doubt in either of their minds. But now that Nicole all but brings it up, Waverly feels her heart speed up again.

They have sat close on the bench, Waverly huddling close under the pretence of seeking warmth, and when they angle towards each other Nicole is closer than she has ever been to Waverly before. She is wonderfully warm slotted at Waverly’s side, and she is bold and sparing in her stray glances and enigmatic smiles.

“Well it’s a sacrifice I’d gladly make,” Waverly says decisively, holding her hand out again. Nicole takes it, thumb skimming up and down.

She crumples up the empty paper in her free hand and presses it absently into her pocket in lieu of a trash can. Eventually, she says,

“ _Now_ who’s the smooth talker?” She smirks and leans in, although they are already perilously close. She drops her voice to a whisper, and Waverly can feel Nicole’s breath against her lips. “What other terrible sacrifices would you make for me?”

Waverly swallows, praying that it is not audible to Nicole. She wishes she had the nerve to simply do what she knows Nicole is angling for, but instead she plays it ever so slightly coy.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies, eyes darting to Nicole’s lips for a brief moment. Unconsciously, she licks her own. “I guess it depends.”

“Yeah? On what?”

“On what you _want_ me to do.”  

Both of them hear the way the other is making an unsubtle implication, and they both give into it at the same time.

In the days and weeks and years to come, neither will really know who leaned in first.

They did it together and that, Waverly will come to think, is perhaps the best omen of all.

At any rate, she forgets about coherent thought when the soft cushion of Nicole’s lips presses down, capturing Waverly’s mouth in a kiss that feels soft as a snowflake, fluttering down in a flurry. There is no new snow tonight, but the moment of that first kiss etches itself into Waverly’s bones, because - just like a snowflake - there has been no other moment like it in Waverly’s life, and she knows there will be no other either.

Nicole tastes of sugared almonds and warm, smoky chestnuts and she kisses Waverly like there is nothing and no one else in the world that matters.

Waverly anchors a hand gently on each of Nicole’s cheeks. She feels as though she is falling and only Nicole can steady her. 

They hold their first embrace a moment; gentle and lingering like they can breathe each other in if they only keep still for a while. Then Nicole pulls back and Waverly fancies that she has the intention to speak.

But there is no other purpose to which Waverly wants to put Nicole’s lips, not for a while, and so she leans back in and embraces her again and again.

After a while, she feels a smile growing on Nicole’s face until it is so large that it hinders Waverly’s attempts to kiss her. It is perhaps the only thing Waverly would want to break them apart.

She draws back slightly, breathless at the sight of Nicole with wet, swollen lips curved into a huge, radiant smile.

“Sorry,” Nicole murmurs, not looking remotely contrite. “Sorry I just - ”

“Can’t believe it?” Waverly supplies when Nicole falters.

“Exactly, yeah.”  

Waverly still has her hands against Nicole’s warm cheeks, so Nicole cannot move too far, and Waverly ensures they can keep their gazes on each other. 

They are already relatively secluded, and the hum of any people remotely nearby is restricted to the ice rink across the park and the market behind them. The sound of a choir, warbling carols like a cluster of songbirds, is just audible; the ideal soundtrack to such a precious moment. They are beneath the celestial twinkle of countless fairy lights, with the shimmer of real stars barely visible somewhere under the blankets of dark snow clouds.

Things are perfect, and Waverly feels free; she feels safe and open and  _ honest _ .

It is Christmas, after all. What better time to speak her truth?

“It’s more than I could ever have wished for this year, meeting you.”

Nicole’s smile slips for a moment, perhaps one of the only times Waverly has seen her truly lost for words. It is not that she ceases to be happy - in fact Nicole is _glowing_ with it - but that Waverly has caught her unawares with her candour. 

“I feel the same,” Nicole says eventually. “And like there’s so many good things to come.” 

Waverly kisses her again then, and Nicole sighs into the embrace like her whole body is is buoyant and weightless.

_ Maybe there is,  _ Waverly thinks to herself,  _but maybe they can just start with what might just be the best Christmas yet_. 

And with Nicole here, and a world of possibilities stretching out in front of them on the cold December air, Waverly has no doubt that it will be.

 

_ Fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much cheese!! But it's Christmas so it might just be acceptable.
> 
> Thank you again for all the lovely comments on this fic and on every other fic I've published this year. 
> 
> I hope you all have a happy and safe festive season, whether you celebrate Christmas or are just enjoying a few welcome days of peace. If you're with family, I know it can be a tough time for those of us who are closeted or who have family who are not accepting. Remember you are loved and have a big ol' found family here with other Wynonna Earp fans!!
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and best wishes for 2019!!


End file.
